MY LOST DUCHESS 






''" 



1 






MY LOST DUCHESS 

AN IDYL OF THE TOWN 



BY 



AUTHOR OK "PRINCETON STORIES," "NEW YORK SKETCHES, 
"THE STOLEN STORY," ETC. 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

WALLACE MORGAN 




NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 

1908 



THE "JF vi-.NE PRESS 



TO 

S.-C. W. P. 



2138927 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

She made a pleasant picture there . . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

She stood, all in white 39 

She swung her gaze up and around at me . .141 

I love you, love you, love you 199 

I came to say good-hy 249 

Sit down, Nick* 285 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



AN IDYL OF THE TOWN 




HERE is a beautiful girl in 
this town who has lately 
contracted an agreeable 
habit of making a trium- 
phal tour up the crowded 
avenue past my window. She is rather 
tall, with a great amount of brownish 
hair, and wondrous eyes, which you 
might call starry, if that admits of a 
twinkle in them. 

At times she drives, looking like a god- 

3 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



dcss in her cart. no, not like a goddess 
in her cart at all ; like a lovely woman in 
a modern, not to say extremely fashion- 
able, victoria; and tor my part I like this 
better. Imagine a rather heavy goddess 
trying to wear one of her hats ! 

Besides, goddesses would hardly mani- 
fest such a charmingly human interest in 
things and people that pass. Xor for 
that matter do man)' other humans of the 
sort termed fashionable; but this one 
never seems to be concerned with her 
clothes, her equipage or her fashion- 
nobility. Indeed she does not seem to be 
aware of making triumphal tours. 

She knows she 's a beauty though 
they always do; but as she has the com- 
fortable assurance that every one else 
acknowledges it too, she leans back in the 
cushions and lets go of herself, quite as if 
she were a philosophical old maid who 
had ceased to struggle. 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



More frequently she walks (I suppose 
you would call it walking), giving me a 
chance to look at close range, only the 
window-pane, the half-hidden privet 
hedge, and the granite balustrade be- 
tween us. There is plenty of time to be 
critical when she walks. I have fine long, 
leisurely looks all the way from the right- 
hand frame of the window to the left. 
Ours are broad, generous windows. 

When she drives, it is all over in a 
flashing second, and I have twenty-four 
hours to wait; sometimes even longer, for 
the habit is still in the forming. Indeed, 
I have yet to find one of them to be 
trusted implicitly. In times past, many, 
many of those I have grown fond of in 
the course of the trip across from one edge 
of the window to the other, dawned upon 
me but that once, or possibly twice, and 
never came near me again, though I loved 
them dearly for whole weeks at a time. 

5 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I wonder what has become ot you all. 
Is if fliaf you are afraid fhat I -ball ^ct 
over if it \ ou let me sec too much ot you'? 
She is not afraid. 




IT 



ID-DAY she swerved in quite 
near me, next to the balus- 
trade, and before she reached 
the other frame of the win- 
dow I had made numerous discoveries. I 
feel now that I know her quite inti- 
mately. The under lashes are also rather 
long, as under lashes go, and evenly dis- 
tributed. I may say that it is a remark- 
able face, for it somehow sparkles. 

Not seeing me she will never know 
how much I appreciate her, and I doubt if 
she would care. She coolly sweeps past 
with that light, strong stride of hers, as 
though it were the greatest fun to walk 
and I suppose it must be when you do it 
that way thinking the loveliest thoughts 
(which have nothing to do with me) and 

7 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

yet taking such a charming interest, a 
gently humorous I almost saui a Denial 
interest in every one (except those in 
club windows), though looking all the 
while at something a million miles be- 
yond the Avenue and me. 

I trust I ma}' never meet this girl. For 
she, no doubt, like all the rest who held 
out hope from time to time of being as I 
wanted them to be. would only pnm 
another disappointment. 

Yes, I shall stay here safely by my 
window, and thus keep her for my own 
for ever. 



8 




Ill 



,T is the tenth day she has kept 
me waiting in this stogy 
chair missing my swim down- 
stairs, making me late for 
dinner, and causing all sorts of inconve- 
nience for many people. I had thought 
that I could trust her. 

Possibly she resents my looking at her; 
I can't see why. What difference can it 
make to her, my sitting here liking her as 
the crowd goes by. Though I have tried, 
I can find no adequate excuse for her con- 
duct, and suspect that she has been get- 
ting married or something of that sort. 

There sits Torresdale in the opposite 
chair. He likes to read his paper here, 
and has an absurd notion that he owns 
my window. He is a literary man and 

9 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

feels superior to all human emotions. 
What would Torre-dale think ot me it he 
knew whv I hold the "Evening Post" so 
high between us even evening at thi- 
hourV . . . 

A purple gloom has eome over the 
Avenue, a deeper gloom is over me. The 
eabs have begun to show feeble yellow 
lamps: the long, even rows ot ,-treet light- 
are being turned on. white and unneces- 
sary. My arm, as usual at this time, is 
numb with holding up the paper. Some 
ot the same women I observed valiantly 
setting forth tor teas an hour or two ago 
are returning now with a sanctified air, 
their duty done. 

The walking up-town crowd is thin- 
ning out; all over the city people are 
dressing for dinner. In a moment the 
servants will come in irom the hall and 
draw the thick crimson curtains across the 
windows, shutting oif my view of the 
Avenue until to-morrow. 

10 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



But this will be the last time. I have 
other things to do in life besides waiting 
upon the whims of a girl. . . . 

Ah, I knew she would be true to me! 
See how she walks! With an innocent 
expression as if she 'd never imposed 
upon me at all Look! She is smiling 
this is an historic moment. Oh, now I 
understand, that small girl beside her 
who can site be? There, they are gone. 
I don't know where, I never shall, but I 
know I have seen that face before ! 
When she smiled I was sure of it. 

Torresdale can have the whole window 
to himself now, since he insists upon ruin- 
ing his eyes. 

"Good-night, Torry," I said, and arose 
to go. 

He replied rather animatedly for him: 
"By the way, Nick, who 's the child with 
her?' 

I looked at him a moment in sorrow, 
and then we both laughed. 
11 



IV 




HIS is what I heard to-day as I 
approached Torresdale seated 
in the corner with Harry 
Lawrence. 
Harry, I may add. is one ot ll,c Lau- 
rences. He knows this and so little 
else, but perhaps it is enough, he thinks. 
"Though lie travels more than most Xew 
Yorkers," Torresdale once said ot him, 
"Harry will never in all his lite get away 
from Xew York. He 's as provincial as 
you are, Xick, though not so unworldly." 
I was behind Lawrence's chair and he 
did not see me at. first. "She 's some- 
thing new, that 's certain," he was Baying 
with an air of authority, tor Lawrence 
would doubtless know her it she were not 
new; that is, if she weie worth knowing, 
and evidently he considered her qualified, 
12 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



for he went on: "There 's a well-bred 
poise, an aristocratic quietness about 
that girl." Lawrence thinks he has it 
too, and perhaps he has. 

"Not only that, but the look on her 
face, the blood in her body, she has an 
air," said Torresdale, "an air that is born 
and not made." 

"Well, I wish I knew who she is, any- 
way," said Lawrence, smoking comfort- 
ably. 

"If you really care to know," said 
Torresdale with a manner of finality, 
which made us turn toward him expect- 
antly he is always saying things worth 
listening to "'She 's the young Duchess 
of Hetherington." 

("Then the young girl with her," I ex- 
claimed to myself, "is her daughter.") 

"And the child," continued Torresdale, 
turning squarely around and smiling 
knowingly at me, "is her step-daughter." 

13 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



Lawrence also now looked at inc. I 
was glad 1 was standing out ot the light. 
tor I telt annoyed by this. 

"What !" he exclaimed, turning toward 
me. "Do you mean to say that our Nick 
here is another?" 

"Her discoverer!" announced Torre- 
dale. "He 's been hugging one oi the 
windows for a month, holding his paper 
upside down." 

Lawrence laughed and touched the 
bell. "I 'm disappointed in you. Nick." 
he said. "I did n't think you 'd take ad- 
vantage ot a woman behind her back!" 

''Oh, Xick with his virginal air and hi- 
mid-Victorian ideals." said Torresdale, 
who likes to talk, "is a de\il and a 
dreamer in disguise. I 'ye watched him. 
Like so many of you tellows down-town 
he 's still romantic-. There are more ot 
that sort in Wall Street, if you onlv knew 
it, than in my trade. We have a good 

H 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



deal to say about such stuff, but you are 
the ones who feel it." 

"You do have a good deal to say," I 
remarked, and he stopped at last. 

"But see here," said Lawrence, "there 
is no Duchess of Hetherington." 

"I know it," said Tony; "but she is a 
young duchess all the same." 

"How do you know?" 

"How do I know? Why, look at 
her!" 

At that moment she was returning up 
the Avenue in the victoria, with the little 
step-daughter; at least I suppose it was 
the same one, I did not look at the child. 
There was a mild scramble for the win- 
dow. 

"Nick," said Lawrence, chaffing, "you 
should check those shoulders of yours out- 
side in the cloak-room they obstruct the 
view." But I made no reply for I had a 
glimpse of her driving by with the ador- 

15 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



able far-away look in her face, all uncon- 
scious of the eyes shooting out at her 
from behind our stone fortifications. In 
a second or two it was all over and she 
was gone. 

"At the very least a duchess," mused 
Torry. 

"Or a queen," said Lawrence. 

"Better yet." Torry replied, "a 
woman." 

"Good-niiiht," said I. 



16 




V 



JORRESDALE and Lawrence are 
over in the corner talking 
about her. Let them talk! 
Torresdale is describing her 
charm with words of whose spelling I 
might not be sure. Let him describe. 
Oh, Torresdale, oh, all you fellows over 
there, oh, all you other men in the world, 
if you only knew how I am gloating over 
you now ! 

It happened less than an hour since. 
I had walked up-town from the office, as 
usual. It was one of our fine brisk after- 
noons of early spring we had to-day, we 
who walk up-town, with a west breeze 
from over the Jersey Palisades, and the 
Hudson blue and crisp between; an ex- 
cellent afternoon for walking, and I 

17 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



ended up at the dub feeling very lit: hur- 
ried down to flu- swimming-pool in the 
basement, threw oft" my clothe.-, dived 
head first into the clear exhilarating 
water, and then, after an alcohol rub. 
stretched out a bit in the resting-room, 
with nothing to occupv my attention but 
a sheet, and perchance a cocktail. 

I had hardly gained my accustomed 
chair by the window beiore I spied her. 
(Her hours are becoming outrageously 
irregular.) This time, as it happened, 
she was walking down-town instead of 
up, but that was not the most remarkable 
thing about it. With her was a man, and 
such a man a Fifth Avenue beggar, a 
large, able-bodied impostor, former!} a 
crook and well known to the police. He 
was pressing closer and closer beside 
her. apparently muttering insistently: she 
was more than annoyed: she seemed 
frightened, and the policeman was at 
18 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



the other end of his beat, as the beggar 
knew. One or two passers-by glanced a 
second time at the strangely assorted pair, 
but passed on without interfering God 
bless them. 

It takes a number of valuable seconds 
to get to the cloak-room, hand in a check, 
put on a hat and reach the Avenue. By 
the- time I was there they were halt-way 
down the next block. Suddenly I saw 
her stop and turn back abruptly in my 
direction, as if to get rid of the beggar 
by this move. But he turned too. and 
continued his demands as daringly as if 
this were Naples instead of Xew York. 
She, retreating and accelerating her pace, 
as if now 7 in a panic, was holding out her 
empty hands to show she had no purse. 
I could hardly believe my luck, for it was 
the first time such an opportunity had 
ever come to me, and I had long since 
abandoned all hope of it. 

19 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



Now she saw me bearing down upon 
them and raised her eyelashes tor the 
purpose ot looking at me. Her glance, 
said, rather frankly as it we were alreadv 
(jiiite congenial, "Would you be so good 
as to help me out ot this? You look so 
capable." 

I only raised my hat in a matter-of- 
fact way as it I made a daily practice of 
doing things like this for her, and grab- 
bing that blessed beggar bv the back of 
the neck, I quietly hustled him down the 
cross street, shaking him now and then 
from side to side. Halt-way down to 
Sixth Avenue, I decided he was about 
scared enough, so with a parting kick I 
let him go. It was not a very hard kick 
considering that this was the only chance 
of the sort I might ever have tor another 
quarter of a century, but it was a rather 
satisfactory kick withal. 

As I turned back toward the Avenue, 
20 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I think I had a glimpse of her for a mo- 
ment at the crossing, as if she had been 
looking on. Then I sauntered into the 
club and quietly joined Torry as if noth- 
ing had happened. He had arrived dur- 
ing my absence. "You are just too late, 
Nick," he said exultingly for he had 
seen her on the way back evidently "the 
show is over for to-day." 

I picked up the evening paper calmly. 
"What of it?" said I. 

He and Harry are still laughing at 
this. Let them laugh. 



21 



VI 



AM atraicl that I am hope- 



There arc a number ot 



v, ho take the walk ir>-ro\vn 




rc^iilarlx". and v\'c can not help rcco,;ni'/- 
IT.L; one another's existence, even though 
v. e do not acknowledge it. \Ye arc a 
sort of walking-club, and natural ly \\'c 
take a iriendlv fellow-members' interest. 
in one another. 

There is a certain j, r irl in gray. 

This i.- a recent acquisition, and. tor 
my part. I don't believe in ignoring new 
members ot clubs as the older members 
of some clubs do. She is a very small 
person with all the tingling daintiness of 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



a geisha, and sometimes I feel like put- 
ting her in my pocket. This girl has a 
way of looking up at me tor a millionth 
of a second merely to see if it is I 
which interests me. Then she looks away 
again as if saying, "Yes, it is you but I 
am not interested; it is simply that you 
are so big." 

Then I always say though not aloud 
"Ah, indeed"? Just so, you remember 
me!" Then she patters along down- 
town, tilting her pretty little figure for- 
ward in the way so many of our girls 
seem to enjoy walking, and I keep on 
straight up the Avenue, and both of us 
look grave and rather abstracted; and 
that 's all there is to it. 

So I consider it no sign of disloyalty 
that just at this particular second I was 
not thinking about the young Duchess. 
I had not seen the girl in gray for a very 
long time, and I was saying some such 

23 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



as. "Where have you been all this 
while V" or "You arc looking very well 
to-day,'' when out ot the void there sud- 
denly appeared, sai ing down upon me 
like a beautiful rebuke, she. her-elt. alone 
in all her glory and, incidentally, with 
a most becoming boa around her neek. 

Ot course she did not see me; her ga/e, 
like her thoughts, was on high, tar above 
and beyond any point I may ever hope to 
attain. But as it happens, this was very 
nice tor me. because I could luxuriate in 
a tull clear look at her while approaching 
and crossing each other's orbits. So tine 
and tender and true, so rich and deep and 
glorious. I telt that I had never really 
known her before. 

"It ever you cared for any one." I was 
thinking, as all too soon we were about 
to pass each other, and away "It ever 
you cared. \<>u would think and thrill, 
and live for no one else," and at that in- 
24 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



stant, as it happened, she looked up and 
caught my gaze fixed upon her not 
rudely, I hope. She looked away again, 
but instantaneously glanced back, suffused 
me with a frank, friendly smile, blinded 
me with a dazzling bow, and passed on, 
while I felt my amazed eyes blink and 
the blood rush to my tace. I could 
hardly lift my hat. 

As soon as I regained my senses I read- 
ily understood how it had happened. It 
was a natural mistake enough. The inci- 
dent with the beggar had brought us face 
to face, and seeing me suddenly again she 
remembered having seen me before, did 
not recall where or how, but thought for 
the moment I was some one she knew. 

If it had been any one else, for exam- 
ple, the girl in gray I beg her pardon 
for the thought I should not have been 
so overwhelmed. I think I might even 
have enjoyed it, made the most of it, en- 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



tercel into it with relish. There is :i twin- 
kle in licr eye too, but there "s nothing 
^tarry about it. 

Yet I could not help rejoicing that the 
Duchess remembered my lace, even while 
it showed she had forgotten my service, 
though I trust she did not notice my look 
of shock and ama'/.emcnt as she bowed 
and passed on. 

I spend more time in walking now, and 
that will do me jj;ood, tor I am taking on 
weight a^ain. The walk up-town trom 
Wall Street is not enough tor me. I ( u~o 
on up to the Park these days, to see if I 
cannot lower my record around the reser- 
voir. It is <j;ood walking there, and- no 
duchesses to distract one. 



26 




VII 

;s I recall it now the first inti- 
mation I had was a sharp 
contraction in the wrists. I 
felt it before I heard any- 
thing, and then I became aware that the 
most beautiful voice in the world was 
sweeping and tingling through me, awak- 
ening echoes from another world where I 
once knew her face to face. I turned and 
looked, and it was she. 

"Are you not the one I bowed to?" she 
said, with almost the same crisp, modu- 
lated tones I had often fancied except 
perhaps a trifle faster. 

"Oh, yes," I said, observing my hand 
taking off my hat as if a thing apart. 

"It was a mistake," she said such 
clear-cut words "You should have 

2? 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

known that. Good-afternoon." She turned 
and was gone, leaving me gasping. Then 
the happy little trees and the shrubs at 
the bend ot the path swallowed her up. 
and I was alone again. 

Flow could I ! Here was the loveliest 
thing in all the beautiful, budding May 
world coining to me in the most delight- 
ful part ot the Ramble, and apologi/.ing 
for speaking to me; and I stood .-till and 
stared at her ami said nothing! 

Poor little thing, probably she stayed 
awake at night worrying about what 1 
thought of her mistake, and then atter 
getting up her courage to the point ot 
speaking to me I did not even help her! 

Before T reali/.ed if I was walking des- 
perately in the direction in which she had 
disappeared; but that part of the Park 
has many diverging paths. I went faster 
and faster, finally running. On the other 
side of the Ramble two diverging paths 

28 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



double and meet again. We doubled, 
and suddenly we met again. Evidently 
she had seen me first, and thought we 
were to pass as strangers but not so. 

"It was a perfectly natural mistake," 
I said earnestly. 

She turned her face toward me, her 
eyebrows shot up inquiringly, she looked 
me over, nodded impersonally, and 
passed on. But I was after her. "Please 
do not worry about it." 

Again the eyebrows shot up. 

"Thank you," she said, in the same 
delicate, superior way; "I have not wor- 
ried." It was in the tone I should fancy 
her considerately addressing a servant. 

"Indeed," I said, "then why have you 
taken the trouble to mention the mat- 
ter?" 

"To give you a chance to apologize," 
said the young Duchess in the quietest 
voice, the most matter-of-fact manner, 
29 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



and without stopping or turning she 
glided on down the little path and out of 
sight, walking as though she considered 
it the greatest tun to walk, and thinking 
the loveliest thoughts whieh had nothing 
to do with me. 

I sank into a convenient bench., and 
looked tor my cigarettes. 

''Well/ 3 thought I, smoking, "whether 
she wanted to explain or expected me to 
do so, at any rate she cared to have me 
know a mistake had been made and I 
have that much to be thankful tor." 

It is possible that she is not a duchess, 
though she has something of an English 
voice ; but the look in the eyes is one 
which T have seen only in American girls. 
Whoever and whatever she may be. she 
is more of a woman of the world than I 
thought at first, and, by the same token, 
the more interesting to me. She has 
known and been sought by persons of 

30 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



note at home and abroad, all sorts of ex- 
periences has she had in her full and 
picturesque existence. 

What a delight it would be if, owing 
to a dearth ot better men for the mo- 
ment, she should see fit to twist me about 
her little finger for a while. 




VIII 

FEW days later I met her on 
the Avenue. It was quire tar 
down, near Madison Square. 
She saw me coming from 
afar. I knew she saw me, and I re.-o- 
lufely fastened my eyes on rhe North 
Star, or where it ought to be. and tried to 
look as if I were thinking beautiful far- 
away thoughts having nothing to do with 
duchesses. I felt her take me in with a 
glance. 

She thought I had not seen her at all. 
and so would give me no credit tor my 
self-denial. I kicked myself all the wax- 
up to rhe Park, where I had a stupid 
walk. 

The next rime I saw her we were going 
in the same direction. She was one of 

32 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



those I overtook in my usual afternoon 
walk up-town. She is not a very fast 
walker after all, but it took me many 
blocks to overtake her. She has such an 
adorable back. 



33 



IX 




>AWRENCE and I spent last 
Sunday at Ogden's. Con- 
stance Ogden is the one of 
whom my aunt always says : 
"Such a nice girl." I never contradict 
my aunt, and yet she always reiterates it. 
Miss Ogden has a fluffy pompadour, 
and several million dollars in her own 
right. But she has more than that; she 
is a dear girl, and I like her very much. 
We are the best of friends and talk in the 
frankest way about all sorts of things, 
and agree on most of them. There are 
few girls to compare with her for sweet- 
ness of nature and sincerity of manner. 
If ever she marries any of us who hang 
around her, she will spoil him to death. 
I can see Lawrence, for instance he 

34 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



is the most persistent at the family din- 
ner-table, after he has become fat and 
phlegmatic. Sometimes I confess I have 
put myself in the picture, but that makes 
an entirely different picture, for I appre- 
ciate her more than Lawrence ever could, 
though this never seems to occur to him. 
I have always said that I would never 
marry for money; yet if I were to dis- 
cover that the girl I loved was an heiress 
in disguise, I might not feel so awfully 
cut up about it. Oh, well, one does n't 
give up much time to deliberation when 
spending Sunday in the country. Most 
of us work indoors pretty hard all the 
week, and when Saturday afternoon 
comes we prefer exercise to planning for 
our futures. Men and girls both are a 
pretty frank, wholesome lot, and not 
over clever like the cynical worldlings 
Torresdale tells about in his stories. At 
least, this is true of the crowd I have 

35 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



most to do with, and I am informed by 
tin- aunt; who ought to know, that they 
include some of the "nicest people." 
"But how can you tell them from the 
others V" I said one day to my aunt. 
"How can you tell which are the nicest?" 

"By their names, my dear," said my 
aunt. 

We had just arrived and were having 
tea on the cool terrace. Mrs. Ogden said, 
"Xick. would you mind going down into 
the garden and telling Mademoiselle that 
tea is hereV I left her near the lower 
fountain below the bo\vl ing-green," she 
said, fanning herself. 

I ought to know where that was 
Constance and I had often strolled there 
and I thought I would know a made- 
moiselle when I saw one. 

The Ogdens' garden is rather large, 
and is old enough to have found itself. 
It does n't look as if it were an Italian 

36 



garden made while you wait, as do so 
many of our new and doggedly correct 
young gardens in America. At any rate 
it was fragrant and delightful down 
there in the cool of the afternoon follow- 
ing the hot, dirty ride out through the 
Forty-second Street tunnel. It was just 
the time of day I have grown fond of 
lately, and it gave me a distinct pang to 
think that possibly my Duchess would be 
passing the window at this very moment. 

But there stood the Duchess before me. 

With a sunbonnet in her hands behind 
her back she stood, all in white, looking 
down at some goldfish in the fountain; 
she had evidently been feeding them. 
Her back was half turned toward me. 
She did not stir. Nor did I. I only 
waited at a respectful distance and ap- 
preciated her sweet figure and the rather 
remarkable profile. There was no dreamy 
far-away look there at present; it was all 

37 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



eager absorption in what she was doing, 
with the lips protruding a bit, most inter- 
estingly. 

Torresdale, I suppose, could have seen 
and described in worthy phrases how be- 
witchingly the sott afternoon glow told 
on her richly-colored complexion, and 
how that background suited her, with the 
fountain and its silvery ripples, and the 
pergola with its fluttering leaves beyond; 
and beyond that the great thick bank of 
dark, cool trees. It is a great accomplish- 
ment to be able to use your head when 
your heart is using you so hard. All I 
could do was to stand there and gaze. It 
was not until long afterward that I knew 
she was dressed in white, and recalled 
that I had never seen her so costumed be- 
fore, and wanted in the future never to 
see her otherwise. I actually dreaded 
hearing the sound of her voice, for I had 
heard it once already and knew how it 

38 









She stood, all in white 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



could upset me. I am getting old and find 
it necessary to look out for my nerves. 

This did not seem to last more than an 
hour or so when suddenly I had a strange 
feeling. "She is going to turn," I said to 
myself, and she did turn. She did not 
start, her eyes merely laid hold of mine 
and held them. My gaze reverently 
bowed down to the ground before her. 

Then the voice began, "I should 
think," she remarked unexcitedly, 
swinging her hat and the tingling qual- 
ity was even more potent than when she 
addressed me in the Park "I should 
think you would be rather ashamed." A 
pause. Still looking at me and swinging 
her sunbonnet, "How long were you 
going to keep it up 4 ?" She seemed rather 
put out about it. 

But I kept on gazing at the ground. 
Here at last was the one of all the world 
standing before me by a silvery fountain 

41 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



in the fragrant twilight, with all the rest 
of mankind a million miles away a 
thing to dream of, and I said nothing, 

The voice went. on. 

"Do you think it manly, do you think 
it thoughtful, do you think it kind?" 

Perceiving that she was merely having 
tun with me I managed to say: "I was 
really trying very hard to call your at- 
tention 

"Oh, you were?'' she asked sarcas- 
tically. 

" but as it happened I could n't 
speak just then.'' 

"How strange!'' she remarked. "Why 
not?" 

"Besides," I went on, ignoring her 
question, "I did not know how anxious 
you were to have me speak to you judg- 
ing from a former experience." 

She shot a look at me. "I 'm not anxious 
to have you stare at me," she returned. 
42 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I merely came to deliver a message," 
I said. 

"Pray do so then. Can't you see how 
embarrassing this is to me?" 

Her lips were quite grave as she said 
this but a dancing light in her wondrous 
eyes showed how embarrassed she was 
with me before her at her mercy. 

"But the message was not for you," I 
said. "It was for a little French girl." 

"A little French girl?" 

"Mrs. Ogden said I should find 
'Mademoiselle' down here some place. 
Have you seen any Mademoiselles wan- 
dering about the premises?" I inquired 
gravely. 

"I am Mademoiselle," she said. 

"You?" I exclaimed. "I thought you 
were a duchess." 

"No," she said, "a governess." 

"Oh," said I, while she hurried on past 
me with a curious smile on her face. 

43 




X 



mi; others were out on the wa- 
ter in the moonlight, but. 
Mademoiselle and I were on 
the terrace. 
I was smoking and she was counting 
falling stars, and did not seem to con- 
sider me worth while talking to. 

"I am sorry, but I do not know what 
your name is/' said I, breaking into the 
silence. '"I could not hear it." 

She turned and looked at me qui/- 
'/ically. "They call me 'Mademoiselle,' 
she said, continuing to look at me in her 
reposeful way. 

"I know that, but what shall I call 
you?" I said, smiling. 
"Mademoiselle." 
She turned away and looked out 

44 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



over the water, the million-miles-away 
look. 

"Mademoiselle," I began. She kept 
on looking out over the water and far 
away for a little while longer, then she 
slowly turned her face toward me with 
an expression of calm, passive inquiry 
the kind Torresdale used to call in his 
earlier stories, "a look of well-bred in- 
terest." 

"I was just going to remark that it 
seems rather odd our meeting out here, 
after all. Don't you think so'?" 

I had not said a word to her at dinner. 
She was at the other end of the table and 
seemed to lead the conversation, and to 
be poking a little quiet fun at Lawrence, 
who presently became aware of it, and 
found the place she meant for him. Even 
Mrs. Ogden seems to be rather in awe of 
her new governess. 

This governess now turned toward me, 

45 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



and, looking gently perplexed, said, 
"Odd?" 

''After those little episodes on the 
Avenue, it you happen to recall them," 
said I, flicking my cigar ashes. 

"Episodes V" she asked. "On the Ave- 
nue V Ah, to he sure, you are the kind 
man who was so very obliging that day." 
She looked at me with new interest. 
"Thank you very, very much." 

"I did n't mention it tor that reason," 
I returned, somewhat amused. ''Besides, 
you amply repaid me by bowing to me the 
next time we met." I looked at her and 
smiled. 

''Did I?" She looked back vaguely. 
"Oh, yes; how stupid of me to torget." 

"I don't consider it stupid," I said, 
pausing. "But I felt sorry to be so soon 
forgotten." Another, longer pause. 
"Had it entirely left your memory?" 

She turned toward me with the sort of 

4 6 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



interest a kindergarten teacher might be- 
stow upon a young charge. "I beg your 
pardon you were saying ?" 

I smiled and repeated my question. "I 
was merely anxious to know whether it 
had entirely left your memory?" 

"No," she replied, with a period on 
the end of the word. "There is another 
falling star." 

"By George!" said I to myself, "we '11 
see about this I '11 make you pay some 
attention to my remarks." I turned to 
her gravely. "Would you mind very 
much," I said, "if I ask how it happens 
that you are not a duchess?" 

"Because I have not married a duke," 
she said casually, as if accustomed to this 
mistake, and not particularly impressed 
by it, for she began to do something to 
the pinnacle of her coiffure with both 
hands, a captivating posture, her white 
arms gleaming in the moonlight. 

47 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I have told 'you only what her 
tingling voice said. Her manner said 
with quite as tingling distinctness. "I 
think you are rather an impertinent 
person." 

So I became quite flippant, and de- 
termined to bowl her over. "But whv 
ilon t you marry a duke V said I. 

"I have never before seen so man}" tail- 
ing stars at this time of the year. Have 
you noticed them?" She turned toward 
me, and, seeing my expression, suddenly 
repeated: "I bc(j your pardon you were 
saying "?" 

"Oh, no matter," I replied. There was 
a still longer pause; after this. 

Suddenly becoming aware of my per- 
sistent presence she assumed the kindly 
kindergarten manner again, and. as if 
saying to herself, "As long as this person 
can talk only direct personalities, I sup- 
pose I must humor him" "You are a 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



barrister, are you not'?" she asked me 
kindly. 

"We call them lawyers in this coun- 
try," I said. 

"I suppose you get not a little amuse- 
ment out of your work"?" She was pa- 
tronizing me. 

"More amusement than money," I re- 
plied. 

Her manner was distinctly more gra- 
cious now, and yet a little bantering. 
"Do you hurry down to the city with an 
important scowl, and come home with a 
tired sigh like most of your kind"?" 

"I go through all the motions," said 
I. 

She laughed at this and looked down 
at me with some degree of interest. I 
was sitting at her feet, and thinking that 
her mouth when she laughed was about 
the most charming mouth I had ever seen. 

"I believe you are beginning to like me 

49 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



a little better," I said humbly, looking 
up at her. 

"Quite so," she said calmly. 

''Would you eonsider it very imperti- 
nent in me to ask who you are and where 
}'ou eame from?" I asked respectfully. 

''No," with another tailing inflection, 
as graceful but as cold as a falling star. 

"Who are you"?" 

"The governess." 

"Do you come from England?'" 

"No." 

A pause. 

"Why do they call you Mademoi- 
selle"?" 

"I asked them to do so." 

"A good reason; but why Mademoi- 
selle?" 

"I began the work in France. It is a 
convenient title." 

"Do you like your work?" 

"I like the Ogdens." 

50 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Are n't they lovely? Have you 
known them long?" 

"They are indeed lovely." She ig- 
nored the rest. She evidently thought / 
was patronizing licr, or trying to. 

"I suppose," said I, "you do all this 
sort of thing because it is an interesting 
diversion, do you not?" 

"I do 'all this sort of thing,' " she re- 
plied, "for the same reason that you 
practise law, presumably, though you 
seem to enjoy cross-examination for its 
own sake, do you not?" With that she 
arose, tall and disdainful, and I came to 
myself. 

"Oh, I beg your pardon," I cried, 
springing up; "I did not realize how im- 
pertinent it must seem to you. I know 
we have just met but it is simply that 
I have happened to see a good deal of 
you since you came to town, though I 
don't propose to tell you where or how." 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



She was still rather disdainful there in 
the shadow, but I thought she seemed a 
little interested in this. 

"The fact is. I have been seeing you 
sometimes three days in succession ! 
What is more I have sometimes even been 
on the watch for you, because, you see, I 
had fallen into the habit of seeing you. 
and missed you when you did n't come. 
I could not help wondering where you 
were, and what had happened to you. 
You don't mind that, do you?'' 

She said nothing, but at least she did 
not go. 

"At any rate, I could not help it, even 
if you did mind it," I went on, "any 
more than I could help wondering who 
you were and what it would be like to 
know you, and how your voice would 
sound, and whether you would be will- 
ing to talk to me if we ever met. I 
did n't want to meet you not a bit of it. 

52 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



Because every time I have rushed around 
to get introduced to any of you I have al- 
ways been disappointed in you. But 
when at last pretty suddenly this after- 
noon you appeared! why you must ad- 
mit that naturally I wanted to get the 
answers to some of those questions I had 
been asking for months. You see how it 
is now, don't you?" 

Her only reply to this long speech of 
mine was to gather a little scarf she wore 
about her shoulders and step back 
through the open window into the li- 
brary. 

"All right!" thought I, "go in and 
shut me out," and aloud I said, "I bid 
you good-night," bowing formally to- 
ward the indefinite dimness. 

Then she spoke from the dark interior 
of the room, her voice sounding timid and 
tremulous, I thought. 

"Am I another?" she asked. 

53 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Another V" I repeated, perplexed. 
disappointment?" 

"Not yet," I said. 

"Then I have that mueh to be thank- 
ful for, have n't IV" she replied in a tone 1 
which left no doubt that she was having 
tun with me. 

But she leaned out and gave my hand 
a charmingly frank shake. 

''Good-by, Mr. Nicholas Brooks. 
After this, shun club windows." 



XI 




ER name is Hulda and she is 
studying to be an actress. I 
should think but little study 
were required. I don't fancy 
the idea of her going on the stage, but 
Torresdale says that this shows her to be 
a girl of spirit. 

"The trouble with you," he said, "is 
your mid-Victorian ideals." Then he 
went on: "We all have something to do 
here on this earth, or else we would n't 
be on it. Every one ought to seek his or 
her work live his own life realize his 
own individuality." 

As it happens, she does not find much 
chance to realize her own individuality 
at present. When they were in town she 
managed to slip off for an hour or two 

55 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



(very clay. Torresdale says. (So now I 
know where she had been and what she 
was thinking about when T used to watch 
her walking buoyantly past the club win- 
dow.) But since they went, to the coun- 
try she has n't had a chance to take a single 
lesson, though I presume she practises in 
her room, in front of the mirror. Torn 
and I think she ought to come into town 
for the purpose about once a week, at 
least. But he explained that such an ar- 
rangement would involve telling Mrs. 
Ogden, who is an old friend of Made- 
moiselle's father, who does not approve 
of his daughter's ambition. Mrs. Ogden 
would also doubtless disapprove, and the 
least she would do would be to tell Mr. 
Rutherford Hulda's father. The worst 
Mrs. Ogden might do would be. to get 
another governess, and in that case we 
don't know how Mademoiselle could at- 
tain her ambition. Her father won't, help 

56 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



her. On the contrary, quite the reverse. 
Moreover, there is a second Mrs. Ruther- 
ford. Hence there is also a new gov- 
erness in the world. 

Only, she is n't really a governess; she 
is a tutor to Constance's little sister 
Edith. "Why does she insist upon call- 
ing herself a governess, then*?" I asked 
Torresdale. 

"I have an idea," said Torresdale, 
"that it is because above all she is femi- 
nine. The term 'tutor' connotes eye- 
glasses and strenuosity imagine her 
with either unfeminine adjunct." He 
talks for hours in a most remarkable way. 
I suppose he does appreciate people bet- 
ter when he has phrases for them. 

So the young girl sometimes with her 
on the Avenue was little Edith Ogden ! 
It seems odd I never recognized the child 
as she passed the club window. ("You 
never looked at her," said Torry.) I 've 

57 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



gone over the links with her frequently, 
and she is a splendid little girl golfer. 

Mademoiselle was a classmate of 
Constance's at college or rather, I 
should say Constance was a classmate ot 
hers, for she was one of those epoch-mak- 
ing Athenes at college who rule and are 
worshiped by all, and whose colleagues 
boast of having been there during their 
reign. Hero-worship! It 's nothing to 
heroine-worship ! 

At college she acted Rosalind under ttie 
trees, and before that she acted with 
striking success at the convent in France. 
Torry says that acting is only one of her 
stunts. I now recall having heard ot her 
by reputation. Constance used to boast 
of rooming in the same entry, and some 
girls I know once got hold of a photo- 
graph of their goddess, daringly had it 
reproduced and distributed among the 
under-classmen women, girls, under- 

58 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



class ladies, whatever do you call them 1 ? 
in this way a worthy student who was 
helping to meet her own expenses made a 
lot of money. My astral notion of hav- 
ing seen her in a previous existence, by 
the way, is reduceable to a rather poor 
Pach photograph of her which Constance 
once, when visiting my sister, showed me, 
somewhat ostentatiously turning it over 
so I could see the autograph on the back. 
But I was a mere boy then and only took 
a patriarchal interest in her enthusiasm. 
The main point about all this is that she 
cannot possibly be more than twenty- 
five, in spite of her superior attitude and 
kindergarten manner. 

"Just how old is your fascinating 
friend 1 ?" I asked Constance the other 
day. 

She looked at me a moment as if say- 
ing, "Et tu Nickie'?" and replied with a 
little laugh: "She and I, Nick, are old 

59 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



enough not to like people to know how 
old we are." Constance has a charming 
precision in her intonations. 

"She 's not much younger than you, is 
she?" 

So straightway Constance answered, 
without laughing this time: "She 's not 
younger at all ; she 's older than I a lit- 
tle." 

I have not been out to the Ogdens' 
again, though Torry has. Mrs. Ogden 
said she wanted me in August, but the 
month is nearly over now. In short T 
have not seen their governess again since; 
the occasion of her warning me against, 
club windows. At times when T have; 
nothing better to do, T confess, I glance 
out of the window, probably from force 
of habit. 

It is a dreary sight, the Avenue in Au- 
gust, when every one is away and the 
asphalt becomes oo7y and odorous, and 
60 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



people of a sort seldom seen at any other 
time take possession of the shops and 
restaurants in such numbers and with 
such bold assurance that the few lawful 
rulers on the scene are made to feel 
strange and out of place themselves. 
"Our city leads a dual life," says Torres- 
dale, "and summer is the brief but shame- 
less season of the Other One." 

Oh, where are the girls of yesterday? 
Having a "perfectly lovely time," I trust, 
wherever you are; becoming richly tanned 
against the day of your glorious return in 
the autumn, when, with a fine brisk 
breeze that makes the flags stand out 
straight, you will suddenly rejoin the 
ranks of the walking up-town club to 
gladden the Avenue and me with a 
guileless smile as if you had never de- 
serted us at all. I '11 be there to welcome 
you. 

We miss you very much. If it 
61 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



were n't tor an occasional trip to town 
for shopping or a dentist's appointment, 
or an interest ing transit from railroad to 
steamship (with steamer rugs and trunks 
crowding the driver off the box). I don't 
see how we could last out from one 
week's end to another. Sunday is such a 
blessed relict. Then we go to the coun- 
try, too. tor a glad time ot it, and back 
to work again on dreary Monday morn- 
ing. 

Yes, I have thought it over very calmly 
now for two months, and have decided 
that the charm is gone. She, alas, has 
proved "another one," atter all. T knew 
it would happen it I met her. I 'm sure 
I did all I could to prevent that catas- 
trophe. I can picture her to myselt with- 
out becoming in the least excited. In 
fact, T often do picture her to myself in 
all her once fascinating phases. 

Ah, well, perhaps it is better that it 
62 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



should have died a peaceful, natural 
death than from one of those violent dis- 
illusionments by which in times past I 
lost so many of her predecessors. I re- 
call a certain brown and red girl her 
name has escaped me with whom I 
golfed one day in Westchester County 
I don't recall the place. I adored her all 
morning, but in the afternoon she forgot 
her handkerchief and sniffed three times. 
But I try not to look like a man with a 
great sorrow as I walk up the Avenue aim- 
lessly. 

So it is all over and done for. Even if 
sitting here at the window I should see 
her 

Great heavens ! But it 's impossible ! 
But there she is see how she walks ! Be- 
hold the notable arch of the brows ! Con- 
sider the poise of her swinging body, 
walking as though it were no, now that 
she is nearer she seems not so buoyantly 

63 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



as of old. There 's a tender line of 
trouble on her face. And why is she on 
the other side ot the street '<* This is most 
extraordinary. I wish I could find out. 
But there, she is <j;one. She ou^ht not to 
hurry so on a hot day. Confound her! 

"You will please tell Mr. Torresdale 
when he comes in that I have stepped out 
for a moment, but will be back in time to 
dine with him." 




XII 

i HERE were very few people on 
the sunny side of the Ave- 
nue, no one she knew was in 
sight, so she thought and, 
by heavens, she was putting a handker- 
chief to her eyes every half minute. I 
did not wait to reach the next corner; 
quickly hurrying across I ran up behind 
her but stopped there. What business 
was it of mine, after all'? Being 
a girl of spirit she would hate, of all 
things, to be caught crying, and thus 
I should only add to her discom- 
fiture. So I followed at a distance 
for almost half a block. Suddenly she 
began to walk faster and held herself 
very straight and stiff as though indig- 
nant. I, too, walked fast. She looked 

65 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



splendid in her wrath. Again the over- 
worked handkerchief came into play 
the poor bit ot a wet tiling, it pi( > rced me 
to the heart. Three long strides brought 
me to her side. 

"May I not offer you in hie V" I said, 
holding out a fre>h handkerchief sympa- 
thetically. "It 's so much bigger. Ah, 
do." I found myself saying in the mo.-t 
matter-of-fact way, as if it were a cup of 
tea. 

She averted her face, .-baking her head. 

"I have another, you know." said I 
affably. ''I always carry two in weather 
like this. That 's why I am able to offer 
you a nice fresh, folded-up one, you see/' 

She only made a sobbing sound and 
kept her face averted. 

"I 'm afraid yours won't last much 
longer," I said sympathetically, walking 
now beside her. 

She turned and looked at me with that 

66 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



notable directness of hers. I looked back 
at her, my brows still knit, and looking 
as serious and solicitous as possible. Sud- 
denly she burst out laughing. As she 
did so one rather huge tear spilt over the 
edge and rolled down her cheek and 
dropped off to the walk and was lost on 
Fifth Avenue. 

Thus we two on this hot August after- 
noon went marching up the Avenue, 
laughing and looking at each other. We 
were passing that long, uniform row of 
stone dwellings which somehow suggests 
Paris, especially as you approach the 
wide asphalt spaciousness of the Plaza, 
but we were n't thinking about that for 
the moment. 

We became much better friends while 
we were laughing together. Realizing 
at last that we w r ere on the hotter side of 
the Avenue we crossed over to the smug 
row of trees which line the Park. 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

"All right now?" I asked solic'itously 
as we dodged a Presbyterian Ilo-pira! 
ambulance alter sonic [)oor devil over- 



''All right now." she .-aid in the nicest 
way. "You see I don't need any hand- 
kerchief no\\' at ail." She turned h< r 
eyes full u[)on me, beaming kindly: "''lint 
I thank you ju>t as nuieh tor yours," .-lie 
added. 

"I do see." said I. deliberately. L 'T am 
so ^lad." F added, and kept on looking. 
She shitted her ^a/.e as though she 
thought she had let me look in Ion;.: 
enough. 

"You came just in time," she said 
lightly. 

"DiclT"? How so?" 

"You saved my lite. I 've had t he- 
most dreadful experience!" 

"Really!" said I sympathetically; 
"any more beggars V 

68 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Worse, much worse." 

"It must have been before you passed 
the that is, before I happened to pass 
you on my walk." 

"At his office," she replied. 

"Oh, at his office," I said vaguely, but 
she did not seem to observe it, becoming 
reminiscently excited all over again. 

"Good-by," she added suddenly. "See 
where we are ! I must go back and take 
my train and you must take your walk. 
Thank you so much." 

We were opposite the Ogdens' house 
and I suppose the sight of the dreary, 
boarded-up entrance and blank, waiting 
windows reminded her. She turned 
about. 

I also turned about. "Would you 
mind my going with you?" I asked, and 
she let me. 

"May I ask how you happened to get 
into his office?" I went on. 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



''By appointment." she said. 

"Oh, I see/' said I. 

"He told me to come again in Au- 
gust." 

"Why Aupist?" 

She looked at me quizzically. 

"Good-by." she said jocularly. "I 
merely want to say good-by to you in ad- 
vance, before T tell you about it; because, 
after I tell you about it you won't like 
me!" She looked extremely grieved 
about it. 

"Proceed," said T. 

"You are of the sort who cannot under- 
stand, and those who do not understand 
life is too short, to explain yourself to 
every one." 

"All right," said I, knowing now what 
she referred to, but pretending I did n't. 

"Good-by," she said again. 

"Nonsense," said I. 

"I am studying for the stage." 
70 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Fine!" I shouted it so loud that I 
awoke three babies in passing perambu- 
lators. 

She had stopped abruptly and was 
looking at me. She had evidently ex- 
pected a different answer. 

"Really'?" she said. "I am sur- 
prised." 

"You see, you did not know me," said 
I, shaking my head. 

"I 'm afraid I did take you for a con- 
ventionally-minded little man," she said, 
dreamily. 

"Not a bit of it," I replied emphat- 
ically. 

"I am so glad," she said. "And you 
really like girls to become actresses'?" 

"Bully!" said I. 

"Girls you know 4 ?" 

"We all have something to do here on 
this earth," I said, "else we would not be 
on it. Every one ought to seek his or her 

71 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



work live his own lite rcali'/c his own 
ndividuality." 

She looked down the Avenue ahead of 
i , smiling quietly. 

"You and Mr. Torresdale seem to be 
great friends,"' she <aid. 

"We are. yrs. WhyV" 

"Because, he Chares "/our views; (jiiotes 
your very words, in fact." 

"Perhaps they were his betore they be- 
came mine." T acknowledged, laughing, 
''but," I added .(juickh", "the}' 're mine 
now, anyway! I had them hist."' 

"That does n't matter." she said 
kindly, as if really ^'lad I approved, "so 
lonjj; as you really agree with me about 
it." 

"Well, don't I?" I said. "But how 
about this brute who was disagreeable to 
you V" 

"He is not a brute he 's a theatrical 
manager.'' 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

"The same thing," said I. 

Then she told me a good deal about it. 
It was because she was all wrought up 
and nervous after the experience and felt 
the human necessity of talking to some 
one, and I was lucky enough to turn up 
at the right moment and be the one. It 
gave me a delightful sense of intimacy. 
She is not at all the confiding kind, this 
self-contained young Duchess-governess. 

"I tried during the previous season to 
secure a small part even a thinking 
part," she said, smiling. "I thought it 
would be easy ("It ought to be," I 
wanted to say, but suppressed it), but 
none of them seemed to have anything 
for me, not even the littlest bit of a 
part." 

("Those were the days she looked so 
thoughtful and serious as she walked up- 
town," I smiled to myself.) 

"But they all told me that they might 

73 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



be able to do something for me if I tried 
it again in August. That was the best 
time, they said ; when the}- were making 
up companies for the new productions," 
she added. "Some of them were rather 
nice to me about it. This is August," she 
said rather pathetically, and opened her 
hands, sighing. 

"Don't drop your handkerchief," said 
I. It was quite dry by this time. 

"I would not have minded it so much 
if it had happened earlier in the day, but 
this was the last place I tried, and they 
had in most cases kept me waiting a very 
long time. 'It 's like a servants' em- 
ployment agency,' I remarked to an 
actress waiting in the chair next, to mine. 
'Yes,' she said, 'except that we are n't 
so independent.' I liked her for that, and 
we became quite friendly. She had once 
been something of a success, it seems, but 
had made the fatal mistake." 

74 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"What 's that?" said I. 

"She married." 

"Is that a mistake?" 

"Naturally; and now her husband 's 
dead and she has two children to support. 
She had such a kind, patient face." 

The Duchess paused, and I thought, 
"Tell her to keep out of it," but I did not 
dare. 

"Some of the managers remembered 
me and some did not," she resumed. 

I doubted that, but as she was sighing 
in the most interesting way, I did not in- 
terrupt her. 

"None of them had anything to offer." 

"Not even a thinking part?" said I 
sympathetically. 

"Not even a thinking part." 

"Too bad," said I aloud. ("Glad of 
it," I added to myself.) 

"Finally, when I came to this last 
place I did not want to go there very 

75 



MY LOST Dl CIIKSS 



much, but I had to." she added, smiling 
at me; "I knocked on the door: 'Come 
in/ shouted a loud voice from within. I 
waited. 'Damn \ou. stay out then.' 



expected to set' him wither, lint he did 
not. His coat and wai.-tcoat were off. 
his hat was on and a man was buttoning 
his boots. He glanced up and he 
did n't take his cigar out ot his mouth 
'Why did n't you come in when I told 
you toV He did not rise nor apologize 
tor the other omissions or anything. 
Was n't it a good joke on meV" 

"A joke!" I cried, raging. 

"I replied to the manager, cuttingly. 
'T thought possibly you were not pre- 
pared to receive women callers, but I see 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



my mistake,' though that did not seem 
to affect him at all. 'What d' you 
want"?' was all he said. 'An engage- 
ment,' I replied. 'Thought so. What 
ran you do"?' he asked, staring at me as 
though I were rather impudent. 'All 
sorts of things in legitimate,' I said. 
'What have you had most experience 
in"?' 'Nothing.' 'Thought so.' Then I 
fold him what I had done in amateur 
acting, very foolishly, and how I had 
been studying all winter. But he inter- 
rupted me with a laugh. 'Can't do any- 
thing for you to-day.' 'Might I in- 
quire,' said I, 'if you think it possible to 
give me a chance later?' 'Nope, proba- 
bly not.' 'But you said last winter,' I 
insisted 'We 're full up, that 's all,' 
he growled and turned aside." 

"Did he say that to you?" I asked, 
searchingly. 

77 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Indeed he did." 

"In that tone of voice?" 

"'Only worse." 

"What is his name and address?" 

"What are you going to do?" 

"'What am I going to do! Remember 
the beggar?" 

"Yes, I saw you from the corner." 

"Well, that, 's what. I mean to 
do." 

"Really?" she asked, looking up at 
me. 

"Natural!}", " I growled, looking down 
at her. 

"How nice!" she said. 

"His name, please? It 's getting late. 
He ma}' leave, his ollice." 

"But of course you must n't think of 
anything of the sort," she added. 

"Who 's doing this?" I replied. 

"I am very much obliged to you, but 
it would never do," she said. 

78 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"But how can I make him apologize 
otherwise?" I asked. 

"No, you might be arrested." 

"Not until after I have finished." 

"But suppose it all came out in the 
papers'?" 

"I don't care." 

"I do. My name would be men- 
tioned." 

"Well, then," I said, "I '11 just go and 
quietly kick him about a while without 
saying why." 

But she only shook her head unrea- 
sonably. "Not to-day," she said. 

"You 're very inconsiderate," I said. 
"Why not?" 

"Because I should n't like it if you 
were arrested. Good-by," she added, for 
we had reached the station, I suddenly 
discovered; and here was the usual after- 
noon rabble of scowling, perspiring com- 
muters. 

79 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"^ on have a provoking h,;il)if of say- 
ing good-by," I remarked, still irritated. 

"Good-by," she said. "Please don't 
come any farther. Thank you for your 
sympathy." And she hurried aeross to 
write; a telegram. 



80 




XIII 

, ox FOUND my sympathy," 
though r I, for my talk was 
not finished, and I hate to do 
things by halves. 
I watched her writing a telegram, pre- 
sumably to the Ogden stables to meet her 
on this later train, and I dashed across 
the room, bought a round-trip ticket, re- 
turned to the telegraph place and wrote 
one myself to Torresdale before she had 
finished figuring out ten words on her 
fingers. Mine was a long one, but it was 
important, and I had n't time to be eco- 
nomical : "Sorry unavoidably delayed 
important business meet you on roof in 
time for coffee." 

"Oh," she said, looking up, "I 
thought you had gone." 
8l 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



''Gone no," I said, "hut I am going 
with you. I mean, if you Ml let me. 
Will you?" 

She only looked at me. 

"I find I '11 have to take a trip out your 
way." 

Her eyebrows shot up. 

"If you don't believe it." I declared, 
"read this telegram." 

"How nice," she said. 

"You won't mind if I go on your 
train, will you? I '11 sit in another seat, 
if you are tired of talking to me." 

"How nice that you can come on the 
same train," she said, and we passed 
through the gate together. I sat down 
beside her in the car, thinking it was go- 
ing to be nice, and it. was n't at all. I 
suppose she had something on her mind 
or else the psychological moment was 
past; it had lasted over an hour al- 
ready. 

82 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



At Liny rate, the trip was an anti- 
climax. She was distrait, and became 
more and more cold and oblivious of me 
the nearer we approached the end of our 
journey. I wonder if the nearness to the 
atmosphere of the terrace recalled the 
old cold, moonlight mood. Possibly it 
was the natural reaction from emotion 
and from telling me all about it. Maybe 
it was some other peculiar feminine psy- 
chological stunt, but the harder I tried 
to make her comfortable and happy, the 
more she drew away as if she hated me 
for having seen her cry, though it. was n't 
my fault, and I did n't mean any harm 
at all. 

"We 're almost there," she said, with a 
sigh of relief. 

"Almost," said I, with a sigh. 

"Here begins the old daily grind once 
more." We were rounding the bend in 
the road. "I hate it I hate it I hate 

8 3 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



it," .-.he said, as the air-brakes were 
clapped on. 

"Why. I thought they were >o nice to 
you!'' I said in surprise. 

"No one could be nicer." 

"They all swear bv you." 

"Yes. They intrust me with their 
lives, their fortune-, and their love at- 
tairs. But would you enjoy selling pea- 
nuts when }'ou want to practi.-e law?" 

\\ T C arose to go. "It depends upon the 
price," said I. 

"At an}' price," she murmured as she 
touched my hand (with two fingers) to 
get off the car. 

"There are worse things than selling 
peanuts/' I remarked senrentiouslv us we 
crossed the platform toward the wagon- 
ette. 

She began to laugh quietly and turned 
her wondrous eyes upon me. "As it I 
did not know all the time," she whis- 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



pered as I helped her into the wagorrette 
"that you would disapprove of any 
girl's 'going on the stage,' as people call 
it." 

"Oh," I protested, "but" 
"Ready, James." Then she turned to 
me "But it was so nice of you to pre- 
tend all the same. Good-by." Then she 
was off, nodding and smiling back at me. 



XIV 




oRRr.sDAi.i-: was looking at the 
moon when I reached him 
on the club root-garden. 

''Business all finished'! 1 " 
asked Torry when I had completed my 
rather elaborate apology. 
"Oh, yes," said T. 

"Then it 's time tor pleasure," he said, 
ringing the bell tor a waiter to take my 
order. I stretched out in my chair with 
the comfortable sigh of a hard-working 
man and looked up at the stars overhead. 
That is one of the things that we all 
ought to do more often in lite. I under- 
stand, and though the}" were not much 
in the way of stars through the lur/.e of 
the city, still they were not so bad as a 
contrast with the signs of the city far 
86 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



down below us. The moon was there, 
too, and it was nearly full. 

"My boy, you work too long," said 
Torresdale. "Were you working yery 
hard?" 

"Part of the time it was hard work." 

"Hum," said he, "not when I saw 
you." 

"You saw me?" 

"Across the street. I happened to be 
up-stairs in the magay.ine room standing 
by the window. My dear fellow, not a 
word; you can haye me to dine with you 
any time. I would have done exactly the 
same thing in your case. Moreover," he 
added casually, "you would have con- 
fessed it to me eventually. I know you 
better than you know yourself; you are 
the poorest liar I have ever known." 

Roof-gardens are not put down as very 
poetic places, but. there is a romantic 
charm about them to me. The roar of 



MY LOST DI T CHKSS 



the citv came up to us in our eery seclu- 
sion with a rumbling, tar-away note. 
We were quite alone in the southeast 
corner ot the' root, seated in comfortable 
outdoor chairs with our teet braced 
against the granite coping tliat walls us 
in so that we need not tee! as it about to 
tall out upon the Avenue. Behind us. 
near the elevator entrance, somebody was 
playing shuffle-board. Otherwise it was 
quiet, and troni where we sat we could 
see nothing urban on our horr/.on above 
the coping except a tew church spires, 
and. it we turned, a couple ot tall hotels 
to the north, which elbowed their way up 
above the other neighboring buildings 
and intrusively looked down over our pri- 
vate garden wall quite in the manner of 
smart hotels. 

Our voices had the thin, out-of-door 
quality, and the air was cool and clean 
away up there, and the moon was just as 

88 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



good as if it were on a terrace in the coun- 
try. In fact it was quite like being in 
the country, except that there were no 
mosquitos. I looked down from the 
moon and found Torresdale gazing at me 
quizzically. 

"Is n't she delicious?" said Torres- 
dale. 

"Who?' said I. 

"For a governess," Torresdale added. 

I played with the syphon. I did not 
feel like hearing him dissect her charm 
this evening; but Torresdale had dined, 
was under the moon, and was with a man 
who was amused by his command of 
words and play of fancy usually. 

"There is a subtle flavor about that 
girl," he said, with cigarette smoke com- 
ing out of nose and mouth, "a bouquet, 
a delicate fragrance as of old wine which 
one misses in so many of our modern 
strappers with their brown and brawny 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



anus. It ought to appeal to your early- 
Victorian sentimentality, Xick." 

I intimated that. I did not care to dis- 
cuss a lady in a club. 

"Another Victorian ideal!" he 
laughed; "you 're always in character, 
always consistent. Did ^he ever show 
you her eye-smile V he went on imper- 
turbably. 

I was drinking just then and did not 
rep]\-. 

'''She has the neatest trick of looking 
very grave 1 around the mouth and yet 
smiling palpably in the eyes. She must. 
have 1 learned that when she was at school 
in France. There, 's a Gallic quality in 
it." 

"What are you writing nowadays?" 
said T. 

"I 'd like to write about her, but" 

he shrugged his shoulders "I know my 

magnificent limitations. What in the 

90 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



world was she talking to you so earnestly 
about"?" 

I did not see what business this was of 
Torry's. "I am sorry," I replied, "but 
the fact is, she told me in confidence." 

"Really," said Torresdale, laughing 
easily, "how very interesting. The pretty 
governess," he went on glibly, "meets the 
handsome young lawyer handsome and 
brilliant, I should say, young lawyers 
are always brilliant meets him by 
appointment, evidently." He left a 
pause for me to make a sign of contra- 
diction or confirmation; I did not fill the 
pause, so he went on : "They are seen 
hurrying up the Avenue on a hot after- 
noon in earnest conversation. The bril- 
liant young lawyer cuts the dinner he had 
invited his dear friend to. Query: 'Did 
he dine with the pretty governess'?' ' 

I finished my drink and put down my 
glass. 

91 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Don't he an ass," I said. 

''Yes. I fear you are another victim," 
lie rattled on. "Lawrence, is done tor. 
lie has transferred all his devotion for 
Miss ()u r den to Miss O^den's sister's gov- 
erness.' 1 

"Lawrence is a fool." 

"Don't take him so hard. Nick; he 's 
merely amusing and does not know it. 
He can't help it; think of his handicaps." 

"What can she see in him?" I asked 
abruptly, and Torry laughed at me a^ain. 

"Who can tell, who can tell." he 
mused. "She is all things to all men." 

"Are there so many of them?" 

"Only as man}' as have visited Red 
Hill." The Oldens are ^reat entertain- 
ers. "Bill}- Ouirk is one of them. So is 
Purviance. Lawrence's father is an- 
other." Torry added. 

"What, that old man with the white 
mustache !" 

92 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"But he has pink cheeks," said Torres- 
dale symbolically. ''Do you blame me 
for being worried even about you"? Not 
that it is so surprising to hear of the old 
Colonel's capitulation, but when I ob- 
served his son who well, Lawrence has 
his points, but for the sake of argument 
we '11 admit that he is a snob and she is 
not an heiress, only a governess. Now, 
you also have been devoted to Miss Og- 
den, and you," he paused and smiled, 
"are not a snob." 

'Rot!" I growled. 

"That means that you are still true to 
the plump little heiress? Well, I 'm 
glad to hear it. My mind is relieved." 
My face was in the moonlight and I felt 
him looking at me. 

The picture of dear, gentle Constance 
rose before me, all unconscious of being 
discussed and of being called plump! 
"Miss Ogden and I are better friends 

93 



MY LOST Dl CITKSS 



than ever," said I with unnecessary em- 
phasis. 

"Ah! At last you Ve said something. 
Atter all, the object ot speech is to ex- 
press thought, not to conceal it, as some 
ot you so-called 'reserved' people think 
reserved because you don't know how to 
talk. So she 's been telling you. too, 
about her work, has she?" lie evidently 
meant Miss Rutherford. "Just like a 
girl, flatters each man into thinking he 's 
her special confidant and adviser, then 
tries to cover her tracks by exacting 
secrecy from each one. I gave the Mad- 
emoiselle credit tor having better head 
than that. Did she tell you I was going 
to write a play tor her some day V" 

"No. she did not honor me to that ex- 
tent," T replied, tor he rather amused me 
with his assumption ot superior intimacy. 
Perhaps I felt a bit provoked at her. too. 

"Some day," he replied. ''First, how- 

94 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

ever, she must get a job." I was unpleas 
antly reminded of her own story of tht 
actress who called it an employment 
agency. "And I am going to get her one 
if pulls can bring it. You 'ye got to 
have a pull for everything, and every- 
thing can be got by a pull. Most of you 
people think that any woman with a 
pretty face and a fine figure can walk 
straight out of the drawing-room on to 
the stage." 

"Go to the devil," thought I. 

"She has temperament, and, above all, 
beauty; all she requires is hard work and 
an opportunity, which I am going to get 
her" 

"Are you"?" said I. 

although there 's a prejudice now- 
adays against society girls." 

"She 's not a 'society girl.' ' 

"She 's not of the profession, my boy. 
They 're always 'recruits from society' 

95 



MY LOST D I : CHESS 

when they 're not brought up in the pro- 
fession. Oh, well, she '11 do some prat 
tiling some day, Xick. The time will 
come when we '11 boast of having known 
that governess/'' 

"T do already." said I, not fancying 
his patroni'/ing tone when applied to her. 
''She does not seem to be very stage v as 
yet," I added. 

"Natural!}," said Torresdale with a 
smile for my word "stage}-." ''She is not 
one of your stage-struck 'young lad}' elo- 
cutionists/ though people think she is be- 
cause she is turning to the stage as 
the medium best adapted to her talent 
for interpreting life the inherent 
beauty and grace and tenderness of liv- 
ing as well as its little ironies. Hers is 
an art impulse, but I don't suppose you 
know what that means, though you prob- 
ably think you do." 

"Do you?" I asked. 
96 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Only to a certain extent," he replied, 
unruffled, and then went on with his sub- 
ject. "She has excellent ideas. For in- 
stance, she says that she has never seen on 
the stage and this shows her good head; 
I feared she would want to begin with 
CiinitUc or A'Ln/chi! has never seen a 
real American lady girl ot to-day. There 
have been plenty of provincial ingenues, 
and pseudo-cynical society women, so- 
called ; there have been Daisy Millers and 
M'lisses and Geraldines galore, but did 
you ever see a genuine, wholesome, yet 
fine-grained American girl like, for in- 
stance," he turned to me "Constance 
Ogden?" 

"I had n't thought about it," said I. 

"Frank, without being bold; humor- 
ous without being cynical; and aristo- 
cratic without being impressed by it 
ah, there 's the girl." 

I smoked and said nothing. 

97 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"After all, there is nothing like that 
other 'inherent grace and dignity' which 
conies of wealth and position, say what 
we niav of certain other qualities in girls 
who are not like Con.-tance. Xick. you 
are a lucky man !'' 

"What do YOU want, anyhow?" said 
T, scowling at him. 

"Scotch and carbonic." lie replied, 
placidly, "and then an open cab. I have 
a long night's work ahead of me. Some- 
times I envy you even-houred chaps who 
lead normal lives,'' he .--aid. as we entered 
the elevator, "who fall in love and marrv 
and have families and become staid and 
respectable and like other people. Let 
me drive you down." 

"Thank you," I said, "but T always 
walk home to bed unless T ni above 
Ninetieth Street/' 

"That, 's right, that ? s right/' he said; 
"good, simple, normal, exercising chap, 

98 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



a man who sweats give me the man 
who sweats. Good-night. That 's one 
reason why I like you." And he drove 
off, leaving a little air of mystery behind 
him. 



99 



XV 




IIAVK to report that I have 
seen her again ( in a white 
troek ). and that I am now 
in the thick ot an emi>arra- ; - 
smg mistake, and at a loss to kno\v how 
to get out without making it more em- 
barrassing. 

Torresdale. it seems to me. has missed 
his calling. He should have lived in a 
former age sometimes I wish he had 
so that he could have practised intrigue 
at a French court, instead ot wasting \\].~ 
talents in petty affairs at Red Hi!:. 
where we spent the week-end together. 

At first I was at a loss to understand 
what he was up to. but now I be ieve I 
have the key to the little mystery. ! 
confess, I thought Torresdale man ot 

100 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



the world enough not to play games of 
this sort, but perhaps he sincerely be- 
lieves he is doing me a good turn. For 
during our talk on the roof I undoubtedly 
led him to suppose (or did he deliber- 
ately lead me to declare?) that I was 
still interested in Miss Ogden as of 
course I am and still immune from the 
prevailing attack of "the pretty gover- 
ness" as also I am. It is all very juve- 
nile and absurd, but apparently he has 
given Miss Rutherford to understand 
that I am an ardent but helpless admirer 
ot Miss Ogden; and as a good and glib 
friend he has solicited her generous and 
potent aid in my modest behalf with 
the result that she gracefully but stead- 
fastly kept out of my way for Constance's 
sake, except for a few casual moments 
here and there, which she eagerly devoted 
to telling how fine and true and good 
Miss Ogden was, which I knew already. 

101 



MY U)ST DUCHESS 



It was not within my power to correct 
the impression Torresdale had created, 
without assuming an attitude toward 
gentle Constance 1 which would have 1 been 
brutally ungallant. So I could only 
agree with all her stanch friend said, 
and hope that the air would be cleared 
before we left: but it only thickened. 
This is always a most distasteful situa- 
tion for a man, especially when it con- 
cerns a girl one respects and admires as 
much as I do Miss Ogden. 

The worst of it is that I cannot bring 
myself to protest against Torresdale's 
possibly playful meddling in my affairs 
because 1 , whatever nun be his game, he 
apparently means well by me. T should 
judge from what she said in the few mo- 
ments I had her to myself that he had 
spent most of the man}' hours Itc had her 
to himself in dilating with many phrases 
upon what a fine fellow T am! 
102 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



The first thing she said to me when 
my brief turn came at last even before 
she launched forth on the other theme, 
was '"'I wonder if you appreciate your 
friend Air. Torresdale as much as he 
does you !" 

"I trust so," said I. 

Her mouth was sober, but there was 
that suggestion of a smile in her rather 
remarkable eyes to which Torry had re- 
ferred on the roof. 

"And I wonder if you appreciate 
yourself as much as he does." We were 
all having tea between sets at the ten- 
nis-courts, and she was seated at the end 
of a marble bench there with an arm 
thrown over the carved back. The 
arm was in a thin white sleeve. I was 
on the grass beside her. "Do you?" 
she asked, swinging the suspended 
arm. 

"I trust so," I replied, thinking that I 

103 



MY LOST !)l C'lIKSS 



appreciated her a good deal in that 
posture. 

"Did you know that he would do any- 
thing in the world tor youV" 

"Xo doubt, of it," I replied. 

"And did you know that you would do 
anything in the world tor liini?" 

"Good ot him to say so,'' I answered, 
wondering. 

"Yes," she went on, somewhat de- 
murely, I thought; "you are one ot The 
'squarest' fellows he has ever known 
one of the few friends worth having. 
Did you reali/e that he had grappled you 
with hooks of steel V" 

"I knew that he was a great admirer 
of" Stevenson's," I replied. 

"And of yours!" she rejoined again, 
with the sober mouth and her smiling 
eyes. "Is it pleasant to be grappled with 
hooks of steel "i? Does n't it ever hurt?" 

"It 's the real thing," I said. 
104 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



She paused a moment and remarked: 
"I should think Mr. Torresdale must be 
extremely fortunate to have such a 
friend." 

"You might try it and find out," I 
suggested. 

"What he particularly admires about 
you," she went on, undeterred, and pre- 
tending to be quite enthusiastic about it, 
"is that you have no underbrush." 

"Underbrush?" 

"No superficial subtleties. Your at- 
mosphere is not tinted." 

"Really?" said I. "So glad my 
atmosphere is n't tainted." 

"No, tinted." 

"Oh, tinted; well, go right on!" 

"You are a vital, elemental person. 
You have that rare thing nowadays 
character. And, let me see oh, yes, you 
have a nature as big and strong and 
straight as your body, or something to 
105 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



that effect." I was stretched out on the 
grass, and she glanced down toward me. 
"That makes it pretty big." she added. 

"The last time I saw you,'" I inter- 
rupted, regaining a sitting posture, "we 
talked about \ou. Do you happen to 
remember*?" 

"All the more reason tor talking anout 
something bigger and more important this 
time." 

"I enjoyed it," I demurred. 

"Enjoyed which ?" 

"The other subject." 

"You know you like this one all men 
do." And I did a little, but I had had 
enough. 

"Did you know you were all that?" 
she asked. 

"Did n't you?" 

"That is n't half of it," she answered, 
"only I 've forgotten the rest." 

"Very well, suppose we let it go at 
106 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



that. I am a wonder. Now, how about 
you?" 

"Oh, yes, I recall : you have a clear 
head, a logical mind, and need only to 
be awakened to find yourself and become 
an ornament to your profession. The 
dear! Is n't she wonderful?" 

The governess had suddenly turned 
and was now ga/ing with unrestrained 
admiration at Constance, who at that 
moment was dispensing tea with the 
gentle dignity we all admire in her. She 
made a cool and pleasant picture there 
with the silver and white of the table 
against the deep green foliage beyond. 
"That is the way with everything she 
does," said Mademoiselle; "she makes it 
seem so gracious and right." 

I agreed with all she said and did not 
try to change the subject, for it seemed so 
unkind to do so, though this did not hap- 
pen to be what I wanted to talk about 
107 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



just then. My silence, however, she evi- 
dently construechis reticence, tor her earn- 
estness tell away and she stopped with 
a knowing smile. 

"I don't see why you smile." I re- 
marked. 

''Oh, I 'm not smiling at her I 'm 
smiling at you." And she continued to 
do so. "There is nothing very subtle 
about you, is there?" and looked upon me 
with qui'/y.ical amusement, reminding me 
of the look I have seen girls bestow upon 
men announcing their engagements. 
There always seems to be a jeer in that 
look. 

But not a word did she say to me 
about her work or herself though I 
later overheard her talking earnestly with 
Torry about both. T suppose from the 
temperament and training he can better 
understand each of these interesting sub- 
jects. One afternoon on the Avenue she 
108 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



informed me that life was too short to 
bother with those who did not under- 
stand. 

But I, too, should be interested to hear 
as much as she might be willing to tell 
me about the progress of her art, even 
though I may be guilty of having a con- 
ventional view of it. I should be very 
glad to be of service to her, if she should 
allow, for I want her to succeed in her 
chosen career as much as I want her to 
keep out of it. And this shows incident- 
ally how absolutely objective my atti- 
tude toward her is, for if I were senti- 
mental about this girl, which I am not, I 
would want her to fail. But I do not. 
If I were in love with her I would put 
obstacles in her path. But I do not. If 
I were in love with her I would lose 
appetite, lose sleep, lose interest in other 
people. But I do not any of these things. 
So I am immune. Therefore I can say 
109 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



with perfect candor that I desired to see 
more of her than she allowed, and that 
Torresdale's complacent way of shunting 
me off toward Constance and the other> 
while he quietly monopoli'/.ed the gov- 
erness rather got on my nerves. I par- 
ticularly loath the type of man who 
creates a vulgar scramble tor a girl. I 
did n't think it of Torresdale. It seems 
so bucolic. So T became more silent and 
inert as the visit progressed. 



110 




XVI 

was on the yacht the next 
day that she said to me: 
"Oh, men are so queer !' : 

"A very original remark," 
I observed to myself, for I felt unac- 
countably provoked with her, too. 
"How so?" I asked, looking charmed at 
her cleverness. 

"Because they are either too con- 
ceited," I followed her eyes across the 
deck, and as I live and am a villain, I was 
glad to see Torresdale there "or else," 
she went on, turning her eyes toward 
me, "or else they are too modest." 

"I don't see how I can be that after all 
you told me about myself." 

"Who said I meant you? That 
clearly puts you in the other class." 
ill 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"But,'' I said gravely, "vou did mean 
me." 

"Yes, T meant you," she said. 

"But you are quite wrong. You see 
now, don't you?'' 

"Not in all ways,'' she said, looking 
across the deek again. This time I saw 
Constance leaning forward in her deck 
chair listening to the "interesting Mr. 
Torresdale," as they call him. in the most 
interested manner. Remembering my 
mistake of the da}" before. I determined 
this time not to keep silent. 

"Is n't she complete?" I said to Miss 
Rutherford. "Plow she looks her part!" 

At first the governess laughed softly 
to herself. "It. is hardly necessary," she 
said, "to ask who you 're talking about." 
She paused and added, "She is the won- 
derfullest, the truest, the finest, and the 
best," said Miss Rutherford; "and I 
know girls pretty well, even if T 
1 12 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



wish there were a word meaning coquetry 
without suggesting a sentimental smirk 
of the vintage of 18^0, then perhaps I 
could tell you how she looked when she 
added: "even if I don't understand 
men." 

"But don't you?" I asked. "I had an 
idea that they were all easy to you; that 
}ou just, gave them one look and knew 
all about them." 

"Not always," she said, and smiled in 
a way to say, "You know what I mean 
though you pretend you do not." 

But I did not know and looked back 
blankly. 

"I did not understand you at first," 
she said, "and you, you know, are quite 
elemental." 

"Suppose you interpret," said I. 
"The object of speech, as I take it, is to 
express thought, not conceal it." 

"Then why don't you?" she rejoined, 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



and with that cryptic- reply the ^ r ov- 
erness, wlio sccnis to be the commodore 
<>t this afternoon's cruise, took it into 
her head to make a tack, to ju^le up the 
members ot the ])arty in the quiet unos- 
tentatious way some women have, with 
the result that 1 found niyseli beside Con- 
stance, and heard Torresdale addressing 
Miss Rutherford in his ^ r lib manner: 
"My dear Miss Rutherford, the days of 
Galahads " the rest of it I did n't hear. 
With men he 's a ^ood enough fellow, but 
in a crowd of women he always throws 
on a lot of unnecessary lu^s. 

All the same I noticed that, the gov- 
erness looked up at him with the most 
charmed expression as though thinking. 
"What a relief!" 

"Is n't it nice when two very congenial 
people, ^et together V" said Constance. 
She talks very rapidly. 

I turned and looked into her sweet, 
114 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



gracious face. "Those two, I mean," she 
said, and added, "I have been hearing 
such pleasant things about you." 

"Good heavens, more!' thought I. 
"Torry is an awfully fine fellow, too!" 
I said, smiling. 

"How in the world did you know it 
was Mr. Torresdale?" Constance has a 
charming puzzled expression; she is al- 
ways so unconscious about it. 

"Because it is just like him," I replied. 

"Is n't if?" she exclaimed in her quick 
way, though usually I must confess she 
is not so enthusiastic as I am about 
Torry. 

"He is afraid, though, that you don't 
take yourself seriously enough." 

"How so?" 

"Down-town, for instance." 

"Oh, yes, I do besides, there would be 
plenty of others to make up for my lack 
of it, Constance." 

115 



MY LOST 1)1 CIIKSS 



''^ ou must not he content with any- 
thing but a very great succe'ss. I would 
so like to sec -you do something, ^i ou 
can." 

"Somehow you always make me iecl as 
though I could," 1 said I. 

"Kvery one says you can," she replied 
quickly. 

''Just watch me hereafter," 1 answered 
laughing. 

"I will," she said. "I will see that 
you don't take an}" more whole after- 
noons to take us to luncheon, a< you did 
the other day in town. That was very 
wrong. But mother never reah/es 
things, and I am afraid 1 forgot. I don't 
know what we would do without Ilulda, 
she is the general manager of the whole 
family/ 1 Constance looked far across 
the water at the lighthouse on the point. 
"How do you like her. XickY" she added. 
"Is n't she beautiful V" 

I 16 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Yes, indeed." 

''She admires you so much." 

"Another? Oh, Lord! I am glad to 
know that I am such a fine fellow." 

"Site has been talking to me about 
you," said Constance, ignoring my re- 
mark. "She says you are true." 

"I would like to be," I added, glancing 
as I had been doing all through our talk 
across the deck. '"Look at him. I am 
afraid your governess is playing the devil 
with Torresdale." 

"He can take care of himself," she 
said. 

"I believe he does," I added. 

"But somehow I like him better than 
I ever did before," she said, and then, 
quite abruptly for her, she turned and 
ran to the pilot-house to say it was time 
to go home for dinner. But I saw that 
she was blushing and that she did not 
want me to see it 

117 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I suppose she. too. is becoming inter- 
ested in Mr. Torre-chile ami did n't want 
me to micss it. But I did! 




XVII 

>T was Torresdale who told me 
they were hack in town 
again, and I was very glad 
to know it as I had not seen 
them tor a rather long time. 

I had been off on my vacation which 
did not come until the fall of the year 
because the head of the firm was abroad, 
and the upper underlings in the office 
wanted their vacations first. 

Torresdale invited me to dine with 
him to celebrate my return, he said; 
but that, was not the reason as I soon 
saw. It was a good dinner. His dinners 
always have distinction, even when com- 
posed of the simplest courses. He once 
told me that I was quite devoid of a gas- 
tronomic instinct, but that he had hopes 
119 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



of inculcating in my midst an adequate 
standard of appreciation to go through 
life with. 

"''They have come back to town.," 
Torn' said, with the oysters, lie never 
lets you have a cocktail, it he knows you 
well enough to refuse. ''[ don't mind 
the assault upon the stomach." he says, 
''but I do object to the insult to the food 
about to find its way there. My dinners 
need no cocktail," he said, and added: 
"The}- have come back." 

"Who the oysters V" I asked, inno- 
cently enough. 

"The Ogdens," he said. "Please, tor 
my sake, don't use Tobasco. That 's a 
good fellow. Thank you." 

"I had a great time up in Maine," I 
said, and told him about it all through 
dinner, which consisted of oysters, 
clear soup, terrapin, canvasbacks with 
browned hominy, celery salad, Camem- 
120 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



bert and coffee. Champagne all the way 
through, and that 's all. 

But ! The oysters were all of one size 
and color, thoroughly cooled all the way 
through, but not half fro/en; the soup 
had substance and distinction in its clar- 
ity; the terrapin was specially prepared 
tor him in a special way, and tasted like 
terrapin rather than Maryland; the 
ducks (which he said were not really can- 
vasbacks, but redheads, though he would 
not send them back it I did not object, 
and I did n't) were cooked but nine min- 
utes; the celery salad was made out of 
only the most succulent parts of the stalks 
(neither the hearts nor the greenish 
ends) ; the cheese was ripe and inclined to 
run; the coffee was made in a special pot 
for him, dripped through I don't know 
how many times; and the champagne was 
'89 Veuve Cliquot where he found it I 
don't know. There was no other wine, 
121 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



not even Burgundy with the duck. Af- 
ter dinner he gave me a little very old 
brandy in a very big goblet. 

You would be surprised if T told where' 
this dinner was, because it is by no niean> 
a well-known dining-place. We did not 
go to the club because we wanted to talk 
uninterruptedly. Tt was one of the older, 
smaller hotels on the Avenue no longer 
considered smart; a dignified if some- 
what passe house whose apartments were 
occupied mostly by flabby women, judg- 
ing from the majority of the tables about 
us. They ate listlessly and some ot them 
read books between courses. 

"I see why you brought me to this 
joint," I whispered to Torn', indicating 
a neighboring table. 

"That is not the only reason," smiled 
Torry recogni'/ing as T had done the fa- 
miliar cover of one of his own books. 
"To be read by vapid souls like that- 
122 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



what a trade, what, a trade ! No, I 
brought you to this quiet place 

"So we should not be bothered by peo- 
ple who know you'?" I suggested. 

"I had n't thought of that," he replied. 
"I like to be known, I like to be both- 
ered. No, it was because at the popular 
restaurants nowadays I rind that there 
are so many other personal orders sent 
down to the chef that, these things 
could n't receive the delicate attention 
they require to make them worth while. 
Anybody can order a dinner; it is n't 
what you send down, but what they 
bring up, which makes or mars a dinner. 
Like all other arts it takes complete ab- 
sorption, the real personality of the 
artist, to make not an apparent but a 
real success. There are a surprising num- 
ber of fairly excellent cooks in New York 
with a real feeling for their work, plenty 
for one city full of philistines, but the 
123 



MY LOST DICHKSS 



trouble is to <j;et their excellence. Now 
my old friend Leon, down-stairs, is a 
true artist that is \vhy hr lost his job 
at a Imp', hyphenated hotel: ];ke many 
arti.-ts he lacks in executive, he could not 
handle a bi^ cre\v of cheis. So he is eat- 
ing; his h.eart out here cooking tor women. 
Yes. any one with a memory can learn 
ho\v to order a dinner, especially a simple 
one like this, but so tew people can make 



"Like this," I added. 

''There is nothing original about this 
dinner." he said. "The late Billy Flor- 
ence, the actor, was ;,;'ood enough to in- 
clude me at one ot his dinners once, years 
ap). when \ was a tmnd undergraduate. 
'I his was his order. Someho\\' everything 
tasted better in those da)\s - but th.at 's 
not Leon's tault. ^'ou will be ^,'lad to 
see Constance apiin !" 

I looked u[) quickly. 
124 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I 've noticed," he added, "that you've 
been cnr/y to ask about her all evening." 

To be sure, I did want to see her very 
much, but as it happened the Duchess 
was in my mind at just that particular 
moment. I suppose the mention of the 
actor put her into my head. 

"Nicholas, it is encouraging to see a 
man of your age who can still blush 
why close your mouth so tight? Let go, 
tell me about it if you want to. What 
are friends for?" 

"The fact is," I replied, "I was going 
to ask you about. is the governess still 
with them?" 

"Aha! My turn now no, I have for- 
gotten how to blush, or surely I would 
now. The governess oh, Nick, my 
friend, prepare yourself for bad news." 

"Well, what is it?" 

"The governess," he began slowly, 
looking at my eyes 
125 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Yes, has she left?" 

''Miss Rutherford" lie was exasper- 
ating! y slow 

"Gone on the stage?" 

"Worse." He looked at me with 
eunous intcntness. I telt a-^ it he 
knew he was exasperating me and en- 
joyed it. 

"Mademoiselle'' he began slowly- 
"lias done tor your poor old pal. I am 
in love with the girl/' 

I put down my glass. 

"Are you?" I asked, and in that mo- 
ment but not until then- I realr/.ed 
that I, too. was in that blessed, cursed 
condition. 

"Madly," he replied. 

"Good work," T answered, face- 
tiously, but tried to make it sound 
heart}-. 

"From your tone 1 should judge you 
had n't much hope tor me." 

126 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"But you have hope though, have n't 
you?" 

"Only a little. Do you wonder that. I 
hesitated about speaking of it even to 
you?" 

I did n't know what to say or where to 
look. Such confidences are always ex- 
tremely embarrassing to me in any case, 
but in this instance and with Torresdale 
watching my eyes apparently not in the 
least embarrassed I wanted to turn out 
the lights and run away. 

"You two suit each other very well," I 
said, smiling foolishly and looking across 
the room. 

"I wish you 'd persuade her of that." 

"Want me to try?" I asked jocu- 
larly. 

"You will?" he returned eagerly. 
"You mean it?" 

I was rather surprised at his taking me 
up so suddenly. 

127 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



''She believes in you." he went on: 
"Nick, you arc the kind they trust." He- 
was apparently quite serious now. and 
had an earnest droop about the corners 
of his mouth, which rather touched me. 
Yet it seemed odd tor this ,vily man of 
the world to be taking me into his con- 
fidence, to be 1 intrusting me with his dear- 
est interests; [ did n't know this sort, of 
thing was done. But he was in love. 

"Really"?" I said, thinking of many 
things. ''I did n't suppose that I en- 
tered into her existence 1 enough for her 
to have opinions about me one way or 
the other." 

"She says that you ring true, are a real 
person she agrees with me in that, and, 
by the way, in nearly everything else T 
say about you. Nick." 

A flood of recollections came over me. 
He had always been generous to me: had 
praised me to her until it was almo.-t 
128 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



ridiculous to her and to Constance. 
Why was I hesitating? 

"I '11 back you if you really wish me 
to butt in," I said, laughing. 

''Thanks, old chap," he replied, grip- 
ping my hand, "I knew I could count on 
you. But, see here, you must not give 
me credit I don't deserve. In talking 
about you I '11 confess I 've not confined 
myselt exclusively to your virtues. 
We 've discussed you pretty freely, old 
man. You know how it is when one 
gets to talking with those who speak 
the same language about those whom it 
cannot hurt." 

I considered it a sign of the honesty 
of the man underneath the affectations, 
his making this admission, especially in 
view of the delicate and rather absurd 
act of friendship he seemed seriously to 
expect of me. But I could not help won- 
dering what she had said in discussing 
129 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



me "pretty freely." I did not like to a.-k. 
so I only said lightly. "You are more 
honest than I am, Torresdale." 

To which he replied. "But T am not 
honest at all. you know. I don't even 
pretend to be." 

'"T do," said I. "and you 've beaten me 
at my own ^,'ame." 

"I can rely on you. Xiek." he an- 
swered, and we said ^ood-night. 

But, oh, such a nijjht! 



130 




XVIII 

SHALL not describe that 
night. There are ugly mo- 
ments in every man's life 
which he would like to veil 
even from his own memory. But I will 
say this, that it is rather startling, after 
living for more than a quarter of a cen- 
tury a pretty decent civilized century at 
that, thinking tolerably well of yourself, 
suddenly to wake up and discover that 
after all you are a good deal of a savage. 
All through that long, vivid night of hor- 
ror maybe his vintage champagne or his 
drip coffee had something to do with 
making it more vivid I spent hour after 
hour as the elevated trains throbbed past 
down at the corner, picturing to myself 
not in my dreams, I was never before so 

9 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



wide awake pictured with lurid satis- 
faction the pleasant process of strangling 
Torresdale to death with my own capable 
fingers. 

But, oh, I love her so ! T love her, I 
love her I keep saying it over and over 
and over, as though to make up tor all 
the time lost when I thought T did not 
love her. 

Sometimes T whisper it while hurrying 
about on business down in the dark vor- 
tex of Commerce. Those dimly-lighted 
canons of the region of tall sky-scrapers 
are rather different from the pastoral 
valleys my boyhood's imagination had 
pictured as the proper background tor 
this sort ot thing. But T love her just as 
much. Sometimes I say it aloud late at 
night when no one is around and T have 
trudged up the long, lonely Avenue to 
ga/.e at her window. It is not a "case- 
ment," and I am not kept from her by 
132 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



a moat and drawbridge; but I love her 
and I want her, and it hurts as much. 

What a blind fool I was to think I did 
not love her. All the while I suspected 
that I did, but simply would not ac- 
knowledge it even to myself, until the 
trembling moment that I heard him say 
that he did. Then I knew. 

I can see him now as he said it. He 
was smoking a cigarette, I remember, 
leaning forward with both elbows on the 
table, his heavy eyelids drooping and 
under them his gaze fascinating me. 
"Mademoiselle has done for your poor 
old pal," he said. He blew out a cloud 
of smoke and dropped his finished cigar- 
ette in his discarded water glass in his 
careless manner. "I am in love with the 
girl," he sighed. 

As I recall it, I emitted a foolish laugh 
and made some inane reply. But it was 
as if he had dropped a spark into a lake 

133 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

of oil, and heaven help me out of this 
now. 

To wait until a better man conies 
along, and that man your friend, who 
confides his hopes to you. bespeaks your 
aid then fall in love through jealous}'! 
What a way to fall in love ! 

"Fall in love!" T had always thought 
it signified a soft-sighing, blissful state: 
rosebuds and moonlit terraces; congenial 
banter and pretty speeches. I thought it 
was a sentiment, I feared it was a fake. 
But now I know. 

He did not hesitate; he did not stop to 
consider whether she measured up to 
some impossible ideal he had been seek- 
ing like a boy; he saw a glorious woman 
there and straightway loved her, being 
a man. 



134 




XIX 

H, the sheer loveliness of her! 
The sweetness and the radi- 
ance ! The daz'/ling radi- 
ance; the dancing, stinging 
sweetness! Oh, the cool serenity of her 
splendid presence; oh, the piercing, mad- 
dening loveliness of her overwhelming 
eyes! 

But I can't help it; that 's the way I 
go about all day long, down-town, up- 
town, asleep and awake. I never thought 
it would be like this. 

And all this while I am working harder 
than I ever worked before. It is the only 
thing to do. Down-town they don't 
know what to make of it. But it no 
longer interests me to speculate on what 
people think about me. Night comes, my 

135 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



desk is closed \vith a bang, off go my 
thoughts again, dragging my heart after 
them. . . . 

Not in m}' wildest moments had I 
dreamed of receiving tor my own a gift 
of suc'h immeasurablene.ss. The thought 
ot loving her was too suffusing!}" daring. 
At best I thought ! might, by some rare 
good ehance, be so favored of the god- 
as to happen along at a time of need to 
punch a beggar or boot a theatrical man- 
ager are about all I would lie good for 
and so make her glad again as is her 
birthright. 

And so when another man, a man T 
know and have supped with, ran in and 
dared! . . . But he is less unworthy of 
her than all of us other men who want 
her; he comes as near deserving this as 
any mere man could and I am to help 
him win her! 

Will she want him to win her"? I 
136 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



should like to think not, but I fear she 
will. If so yes! yes! I tell myself, 
above all things, her happiness. 

I tell myself I will help, but can I 
make myself try? To fight for her would 
be a joy, to die for her a privilege, but 
to live for her thus! . . . 

I had always believed I might be up to 
playing the hero if the time should corae. 
I remember hoping that it might come, 
as boys will. Here it is upon me', and I 
am shrinking like a coward. 

But I gave my word to Torresdale, and 
my work is cut out for me. I am to see 
her this afternoon. 



137 



XX 




ii A vi: seen her. 

But great good did it do 
Torresdale; though. God 
knows, T tried hard enough. 
I met with unexpected obstacles. Every 
time I led skilful]}', as I thought up 
to the subject, I found myself there all 
alone ! She had flitted off elsewhere with 
a guileless smile which made me wonder 
why. Has Torresdale been making more 
progress than he let me know? Has he 
become too dear to her to endure the 
mention of his name by me? Or is it 
merely that she thought I was trying to 
avoid a certain other subject? Certain 
it is that every time I referred to Torres- 
dale and I dragged in his hateful name 
a do/en times s//c dragged in with the 

138 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



kindest persistence and that most charm- 
ingly objectionable smile the no longer 
always welcome name of Constance. 

Indeed, our talk sadly lacked the high, 
heroic note I had so painfully planned to 
insert. Perhaps it was her fault; she is 
not a very serious person; she somehow 
does not seem given to being renounced. 
Perhaps it was all my fault in not choos- 
ing the right time and place for renun- 
ciation; the sparkling Avenue in the 
frivolous twilight hour with the throb- 
bing life of the city about us no place 
surely for self-abnegation! I '11 do bet- 
ter next time. 

But witness that I made an honest 
effort at least at the start. The very 
first thing I said, when the door had 
closed behind us and we were alone upon 
the street, was calculated deftly to lead up 
to the subject of my friend Torresdale. 

"How does your stage work go*?" I 

139 



MY LOST 1)1 CHKSS 



ventured, and braced myself tor the shock 
that would come when she swung her 
ga/.e around and up at me. 

''Quite well, thank you," she said, and 
looked away again to bow most gra- 
ciously to some one passing. "Constance 
tells me that you arc 1 doing tine 1 !}- down- 
town. I am very glad." 

"Glad, are you?" thought I to myself. 
"I believe you have the most adorable 
mouth in the world." Aloud I said: 
"You have resumed your lessons with 
What 's-his-name, the retired actor. Tor- 
resdale tells me." 

I observed her face 1 closely at the men- 
tion of his name, but to me her face was 
as inscrutable as it was beautiful, and 
her answer was: "Yes. Constance says 
you argued your first case in court the 
other day. She and 1 agree that it is 
good, your doing court work; so many 
modern lawyers 

140 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Have you seen any more managers'? 
Torry thinks that you 

"Constance also says 

"Torry" 

"Constance 

Then we both laughed a moment, and 
the carriages and people passed by us 
two laughing together, as happened ages 
ago in August. They were different peo- 
ple then; so perhaps were we, but it was 
the same laugh. There is so much to say 
about this very human laugh of hers 
(though this to be sure has nothing to 
do with Torresdale). For instance, it is 
one of those laughs which bring the 
lashes almost together, leaving only a 
little peeping place for the eyes to gleam 
through merrily. At times a rare dimple 
appears in one cheek which straightway 
vanishes mysteriously, leaving the place 
quite smooth again as if suddenly realiz- 
ing that, after all, a dimple were a rather 

H3 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



frivolous, incongruous thing for a girl 
of her height. Strangely enough I can- 
not recollect with certitude whether it is 
the right or the left cheek. (\Yill make 
note of this the next time it appears.) 

Our laugh was soon over and I pro- 
ceeded once more to the object of our 
meeting but with a somewhat familiar 
result. 

"Suppose we take turns," she suggested 
in the low-voiced way she does her jok- 
ing, dropping her eyes instead of raising 
them as most people do at such times. 

"You first, 1 ' I said, realizing now that 
her clothes were tawney brown, and hop- 
ing she would always wear that dress 
hereafter. But having led me away from 
Torresdale, she shifted the subject to 
something else, though T can't remember 
what. I know that there was but one 
subject' in my mind, and of it T could not 
speak. 

144 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Constance is going in for settlement 
work this season," presently said Con- 
stance's good friend, interrupting my 
thoughts. "Is n't it just like the dear?" 

"Who 's that? Oh, yes; yes, indeed, 
quite like her." 

She began laughing quietly as we 
crossed a side street, a hansom-cab sud- 
denly separating us. 

"You were laughing back there," I 
said. 

"Yes." 

"At me?" 

"Oh, yes." 

"Why?" 

"Because I could n't help it." 

"I 'm glad I 'm amusing." 

"It 's always amusing. I 'm sorry, but 
the funniness of it always appeals to 
me." 

I was silent for several steps, but in 
this growing silence, keeping time to our 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

footsteps, there was a clamoring chorus 
of "I love. you. T love YOU oh, ! love 
you. I love you, I love you oh. I love 
you." 

Presently she spoke in a very nice. 
sympathetic way, "Forgive me. Do! I 
did not mean to be a jarring note." 

Xot knowing how to answer T said 
nothing. She came a little closer. 

"Come, don't make me have such 
bitter remorse. I 'm very, very sorrv 
now." 

T remained silent. 

''T '11 never, never do it again." 

To her T made no reply; to myself T 
said: ''Look at the eyes, listen to this 
pleading note! T must make the most of 
it." T had forgotten there was a man 
named Torresdale, and she, thank heav- 
ens, had let up on Constance. 

"You laughed at me, Miss Ruther- 
ford!" I said in a hurt tone. 
146 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"But I '11 never, never do it any more," 
she pleaded in a childlike manner. 

"Oh, yes, you will. You always laugh 
at me. I ought to be used to it," and I 
came near adding aloud: "If you don't 
stop looking at me that way, I '11 shout 
aloud and shock these passers-by who are 
staring at you." I believe some young 
woman I had seen before was passing; 
she was dressed in gray, or something, but 
I hardly noticed. 

"But, incieed, believe me, I 'm most 
sympathetic about it, and I 'd like so 
much to be your friend only," she said, 
looking very sad, "only you won't let 
me." 

"I don't think you really want to be 
a friend of mine," I said soberly. 

"Oh, but I do. You don't really know 
me" 

"That is true," I said accusingly; 
"you are different every time I see you." 
147 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



''Dear me!" she replied, "that 's such 
an old, old thing to say to a girl." 

"Because it 's so true." There were ^o 
many old, old things I wanted to say to 
her. 

"Ton are very different, too," she re- 
plied with conviction. 

"Nonsense," I replied. 

"And men have no right to be differ- 
ent. Sometimes I am very much im- 
pressed by you." 

("Hear, hear!") 

"I 'm almost afraid of you." 

"Of me?" 

"But for the most part- 

"Yes?" 

She hesitated. "For the most part?" 
I said, leaning forward eagerly. We 
were passing the brilliant rugs of an 
oriental shop, I remember, and were quite 
alone. 

"For the most part, you seem about 

148 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



eighteen," she concluded. Then added 
suddenly as if remembering something. 
"Yes, it 's just like Constance to want to 
be useful on the East Side. She is so 
good. It will be a great blow to a num- 
ber of men, to be sure. But think how 
they '11 adore her over there." We had 
turned home again. "What do you 
think of the idea? She has such a high 
regard for your opinion." 

"Fine idea," I said vaguely, and then 
suddenly realizing that our walk was half 
over and that I had done nothing for 
Torresdale, I asked abruptly: 

"Is n't Torry a bully chap?' 

She made no answer. 

"I tell you," I declared earnestly, 
"he 's one of the best fellows in the 
world." 

No answer. 

"You think so too, do you not?" 

Miss Rutherford burst out laughing. 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



''Why do you laugh?" I asked sternly. 

Then she laughed again. "So trans- 
parent," she said. 

"What do you mean?" I asked quickly. 

"'Why did you change the subject from 
Constance so abruptly"? Why have you 
suddenly taken such vehement interest in 
Mr. Torresdale?" 

"But why did you suddenly begin talk- 
ing about Constance"?" T asked accus- 
ingly. 

"Why did you avoid the subject?" she 
retorted, smiling as it from a superior 
height. 

"And why do you avoid Torn'?" 

"Avoid 'Torry?' ' she asked, per- 
plexed. "Dear me. what an idea. Why 
should T avoid a subject so congenial to 
both of us?" 

I have thought over tin's reply a long 
time. 

But she only smiled at irritating inter- 

150 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



vals the rest of the way home, while I 
trudged along at her side, trying unsuc- 
cessfully to keep my gaze from her sweet 
profile. 

Not another word did I say about. Tor- 
resdale, not one bit of good have I done 
him. 

Instead of trying to -make her care for 
him I was only trying all the while to 
discover whether or not she cared for him 
already. 

But surely that is something I should 
know in order to have a working basis. 
Therefore I made a point of seeing her 
soon again. 




XXI 

[HAT do you mean by that?" I 
asked, rising to take the cup 
of tea she was good enough 
to make for me. We were 
in the library. I had ehosen an afternoon 
when I knew 7 that Constance would be 
making calls with her mother in order 
that I might talk freely of Torresdale. 

"That under your ingenu exterior you 
have a depth!" she said, filling her own 
cup, "a hidden depth which most people 
know nothing about, would never dream 
of even discriminating people like my- 
self," she added, showing that she was 
merely chaffing. She was in blue, and it 
seemed strange to me that she did not 
always wear blue. 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I have a hidden depth, have I?" I 
was interested to hear that, I had a hid- 
den depth. 

"Yes," she said, smiling at me. "One 
can't see the bottom of a muddy stream, 
but that does not mean that it is very 
deep, you know." 

"I see," said I, "I 'm a clear one, am 
I?" She leads the conversation as she 
wills usually away from Torresdale, 
unfortunately. 

"Yes, but so deep that it is impossible 
to see it all, or to appreciate its quiet 
force." She was trying to look solemn 
as she said this. "For instance, if it 
had n't been for what clearly came up 
to the surface Wednesday - 

"Wednesday?" I asked. 

"Or whenever it was, the last time I 
saw you." 

"Much longer ago than that: it was 
Tuesday." 

153 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

Ci But the point is," she said, taking 
pains to miss mine, as T could see by her 
twinkling ryes, "that until then I could 
not help being rather skeptical. So many 
things made me so. But mnv I am fully 
convinced." 

"Fully?" 1 asked. 

"Perfectly," she answered, smiling in 
a .-uperior fashion. 

"Then perhaps you will be good 
enough to tell me what you are convinced 
of. I am interested in this myself. It 
is not every one who can have hidden 
depths." 

"Convinced of what is in the hidden 
depths!' 1 she replied with her lovely 
laugh, and to see her look at me with her 
head tipped to one side one might have 
thought we were the most understanding 
friends in the world. It is the left cheek 
the infrequent dimple chooses. 

She referred of course, as I now see, to 
154 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



Constance, but at the moment I was blind 
enough to believe she had guessed that I 
was working, valiantly, for Torresdale 
and jealous enough to fear she approved 
of my efforts in his behalf. I find it im- 
possible nowadays to think clearly until 
an hour or two after I leave her; I am up 
in the clouds the whole time, except when 
down in the depths. 

"Now let me ask you something," I 
began, stirring another cup of tea, "will 
you 4 ?" 

"Ah," she replied, brightening, "I 
would so like to be taken into your confi- 
dence." 

She would so like to be taken into my 
confidence when I would so like to take 
her in my arms. 

T wrenched off a few years of my life 
and said, "Do you think I stand any 
chance of success in this project?" I 'm 
afraid my voice betrayed a struggle, 

155 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



which, however, must only have helped 
to mislead her. 

She looked at me in such an ado r able 
way, such a tantalizing way, then said 
softly: "It could do no harm to try/' 

Her tone was non-committal enough, 
but her words sent icicles to my heart. 
"But do you want me to try?'' 1 I inquired, 
smiling only with my lips. 

"By all means,'' she replied, dropping 
her eyes, as if expecting me to begin 
forthwith. 

"Then I will try," said I, and straight- 
way took a long breath to begin wooing 
for Torresdale at last. But on my life I 
could not think of a thing to say. T be- 
lieve my resolution was sufficient T trust 
so, but words, only the words failed me; 
and the longer I waited the more awk- 
ward I became. She too was ill at ease 
for once, "And no wonder!" thought T. 
"Has n't she given me permission to talk 
to her in behalf of my friend"? Laughing 

, 5 6 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



permission, to be sure, but she means it 
all the same as her forced conversation 
and over-facetiousness shows." But I 
had nothing to say. 

What a pleasant position to place a 
girl in ! What a loyal way to treat a 
friend ! What a fool I w r as to give my 
word to Torresdale, and what I fool he 
was to open up ways for me which I have 
entered on the pretext of helping him, 
knowing in my "hidden depths" it was 
only for myself. 

When at last I left the presence I was 
wringing wet with dishonest sweat and 
had to go to the club and take a plunge. 
In the cool-minded calm which followed, 
it was borne in upon me that if I really 
meant to keep my word to Torresdale I 
must employ some means less direct and 
dangerous. 

Therefore I decided to appeal to Con- 
stance. 

157 



XXIT 




AVTM; been very busy helping 
Torresdale ot late I had seen 
but little ot Constance (or 
ot Torry either, tor that mat- 
ter) ; but evidently she did not care, tor 
she snubbed me all evening and seemed 
as nearly unkind as Constance could be. 
I could not help smiling to think how 
mistaken her good friend Hulda had 
been in her well-intended endeavors to 
make me believe that Constance cared tor 
me. How little, after all, girls under- 
stand one another ! 

"But. Constance," I said, "there is 
something I nni.<t talk to you about, 
something which cannot wait much 
longer," and glancing at me in an odd 
way. as though tired out b\ my persistent 
annoyance, she let me lead her away from 

158 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



the other men to a quiet corner of the 
picture gallery, saying nothing. 

"Won't you sit clown'?" I asked. 

She allowed herself and her pretty 
fluffiness to sink into a window-seat. 

"I am afraid," I added, observing her 
closely, "that you have been dancing too 
much again." It seemed to have made 
her hand tremble. 

Constance shook her head but said 
nothing, being fatigued. 

"Now then," I began. "First of all, 
don't you really consider it a crying pity 
that she is going on the stage?" I said 
this in an adroit manner as if it had just 
occurred to me, but I had a purpose in it, 
as you will see, and was watching her out 
of the corner of my eye. I saw her eye- 
brows go up and then come down again. 
We had not been speaking of Hulda. 

"She is in love with the idea," said 
Constance quietly. 

159 



MY LOST DITHKSS 



"I know all that, bur there are so many 
better things to be in love with/' 

"For example V" she asked. 

"The East Side," I replied gallantly. 

"I am afraid you can't convince her 
of that." 

"I can't convince her ot anything. 
That 's why T am seeking your aid in the 
matter." 

"My aid?" echoed gentle little Con- 
stance. ''You flatter me." She uses 
these stereotyped phrases sometimes, but 
her voice and manner lend them distinc- 
tion. "Why don't you apply to Itcr?" 
she said, and looked up at me. 

"I have done so," said I. "It I had 
been successful I should not have ap- 
pealed to you in this matter." 

"This matter? What matter?" asked 
Constance, in her rapid manner of 
speech. "You have n't confided in me. 
you know." 

160 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I am very anxious to do so though. 
I am doing it now, you see." 

Constance waited. She has a great 
deal of her mother's repose. 

"Well," I began, "your little sister's 
governess is rather stunning, you know." 

"Indeed yes." 

"And men you know how men are. 
They can't help it, Constance." 

There was a pause. 

"But I should think," said Constance, 
looking straight down the long room, 
"that men would prefer to attend to 
all that sort of thing by the direct 
method. It seems somehow nicer to me." 

"Sometimes it is necessary to apply all 
sorts of methods, you know." 

She seemed to be considering the mat- 
ter. 

"It is really a difficult thing to meddle 
with," she said. 

"Amen!" 

161 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"It is so delicate almost fragile, 
don't you think":*" 

"I agree with you again. We always 
agree, don't we. Constance"?" 

"And she alwavs seems so much older 
than I, Nick not that she is- much 
older; I only mean that it would be very 
hard owing to our peculiar relations; 
she knows so much, is more experienced, 
more brilliant, more beautiful, more 
everything." 

"Of course 1 it is like you to say that.'' 
I put in sincerely. 

"It she and I were less intimate it 
really would n't be so hard, strange to 
say. I have told her so man}' things as 
if she were my older sister and so - 

"So you refuse V" I asked, and oh. that 
I should confess it. I was hoping that she 
would refuse. 

She hesitated a moment and then 
looked up at me. "Of course I Ml do 

162 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



anything you ask of me," she said 
quietly. 

"Fine!" I shouted. "That 's very fine. 
Shall we go back and dance*?" I wanted 
to change the subject for a while. 

"But what do you wish me to do, 
Xick?" Constance was fanning herself 
rapidly. "I don't feel like dancing." 

"You can decide how best to do it; 
you know her and I suppose you know 
how she regards him." 

"Regards whom 4 ?" 



to 



"The man we 're talking about 
Torry." 

Constance stopped fanning quite ab- 
ruptly; and to me, observing her closely, 
this seemed significant. "Why, are 
there others'?" I asked, laughing to hide 
my sudden alarm. 

"Oh, yes," she replied, "but one never 
knows how many. Let 's dance." 

"Do you feel like it? You know the 
163 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



doctor warned you that it you kept up 
your East Side work and this pace 
too" 

"Oh, bother the East Side, bother the 
doctor, I want to dance!" and dance she 
did. "They 're so suited to each other. 
Nick," she declared with the enthusiasm 
girls always manifest in match-making. 

"Yes, I suppose the}' arc suited." said 
I, grinding my teeth. 

"Oh, he 's such a fine fellow." she said 
as we approached the other side of the 
floor. 

"Bully chap," said I weakly. "One 
of the very best," I added vigorously. 

"He is just the man to make her su- 
premely happy," she said, beaming at 
me. 

"Ah, yes!" said T, echoing her tone as 
best I could. 

"Maybe I can do a good deal to aid 
your friend." 

164 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"That 's good of you," I said. 
"You 're dancing with spirit this even- 
ing." We reversed again. "How do 
you intend to work it, Constance?" 

"Oh, bring them together constantly 
at the house." 

"I see. He comes a good deal already, 
does n't he?" 

"Yes; but never fear, I can manage it. 
Mother would n't approve; she has other 
plans for Hulda, but mother need n't 
know." 

: ' I see," said I. "You 're pretty good 
at this, are n't you?" 

"Then, too," she went on enthusias- 
tically, "I can subtly let her know how 
highly I regard him." 

"Of course," said I. "You regard him 
pretty highly, don't you?" 

"Oh, yes." 

"And does she regard him pretty highly 
too?" I did not want to seem like pry- 
165 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



ing, but how I waited for Constance's an- 
swer to this question. 

"She thinks the world of him," said 
Constance enthusiastically. 

"How encouraging you are!" I sighed. 

"Though sometimes," Constance added, 
"I have fancied she does not altogether 
trust him. But maybe that 's merely my 
own prejudice against him. But I am 
all over that prejudice now; so will she 
be when I tell her what you think ot him. 
That ought to have more weight than 
anything," said Constance flatteringly. 

"I have already dwelt a good deal on 
my admiration," said I. 

"So that is what you have been talk- 
ing about to her so earnestly ? What a 
loyal friend you are ! Oh, Nick, you 
should have let me help you long ago." 

"But you see it 's such a delicate thing 
to handle," I remarked. 

"Oh, I will be careful." 
166 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Almost fragile, is n't it"?' 

"Not when it 's an old friend like Mr. 
Torresdale." 

"You don't think you 're too intimate 
a friend of Miss Rutherford's?" I asked. 
"Your relations are peculiar, you 
know." 

I was leading her across to Mrs. Og- 
den, who was suppressing a yawn, for it 
was rather late. 

"You must leave it all to me," she said 
with enthusiasm. 

"No," said I, vigorously. "I will still 
keep a hand in it, Constance." 

"Do you think you 'd better talk to 
her any more about it?" asked Constance 
thoughtfully; "you might overdo it." 

"Never fear," said I. 

"It might do no good. She might think 

that it was merely a man's loyalty," 

urged Constance. "But when I, who 

know you so well, tell her what you really 

167 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



think this is really a woman's work. 
Xiek. }'ou might bungle it." -he said. 

"We '11 see." said I. "Good-night." 

"Oh, don't go," -he .slid. 

''I 'm tired out." said I, "and 1 'ye. got 
my day's work to do to-morro\y." 

"Bungle it!" said I to myself grimly. 
as I marched down the long, silent Ave- 
nue. "It strikes me I 've done unfortu- 
nately well." 



168 




XXIII 

H A vi' tried to keep away, but 
I can not. Telling myself it 
is for Torresdale's sake I in- 
vent opportunities for seeing 
her. I tear it does him no good, I know 
it does me harm, and yet I go and go 
again. 

She, all unsuspecting and with the 
kindest heart in the world, looks upon me 
sympathetically as a poor, lorn lover as 
indeed I am! who comes to her for ad- 
vice and is too abashed to ask it. And 
being what she is she even subtly tries to 
hold out hope for me, which if I really 
were in love with Constance might prove 
my undoing and then think how sorry 
this kind governess would be ! But it is 
sweet and like her, for she wants us all to 
be happy. 

169 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



So she allows me to come close to her 
where I may see how fair she is and, oh, 
how fair I find her! 

"Now that I know it can not hurt 
you," she seems to say, ''I will let you 
look into my eyes and see how true my 
friendship is." And I ga/e and ga/e, not 
wanting her friendship, and knowing well 
how it will hurt until my heart clamors 
and my head whirls, then take to my 
heels only to come back again. 

Torresdale now r goes more often than 
ever to the Ogdens. He has the excuse 
of talking to her about her stage work. 
She has decided to take his advice, I hear, 
and stud}' another year before making a 
second attempt to go on the boards. Ah 
well, good luck to her. 

"You never speak of your stage work 
to me," I said to her yesterday, skilfully 
shifting the subject, for she had been tell- 
ing me for my encouragement that it was 
170 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



very wrong to sacrifice happiness to false 
pride. 

"No wonder I don't speak of my 'stage 
work,' as you call it," she said. 

"Why is it no wonder?" I asked. 

"You don't approve of my ambitions," 
she said with something of the archness 
of the first days of our acquaintance be- 
fore she assumed the kindly sympathetic 
attitude. She is a girl and can't help it, 
she is a beauty and can't help doing it 
well. 

"You know you hate it," she said. 

"What nonsense!" I replied. 

"How would you like one of your own 
sisters to do it?" she asked, looking at me, 
and being so transparent, I was seen by 
her to shudder. 

"I can't help it," I said. "Forgive me, 
but I hope I will never see you on the 
stage." 

"There is nothing to forgive," she said. 
171 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



''And you need not come to see me on the 
stage." 

"Oh, it 's all right,' 1 I replied, trying 
vainly to hedge and at the same time to 
do Torresdale a good turn; "only there 
are other things in lite than interpreting 
it. Seems to me it is a pretty good 
thing not to forget to live in the mean- 
while." 

"But think how much more selfish that 
is," she declared. 

Maybe she was in earnest; maybe she 
was joking; I can never tell. 

"That, 's monastic; that 's medieval," I 
replied. "We would not be given lives 
if we were n't meant to live them." 
Then I tried to explain that her views 
were impious and illustrated rather elo- 
quently by pointing out a bush we were 
passing in the Park. "What right would 
it have to hold in its buds when the spring 
comes," I said or something equally sen- 
1 7 2 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



tentious; "the best good it can do in the 
world is by becoming a bang-up bush." 

"Of course you regard it that way and 
like to think of buds and things." I 
looked up and saw fun in her eyes, then 
knew that I was supposed to be the blush- 
ing lover again. Dear little Constance, 
it all seems so unfair to her. Fancy how 
she would feel if she knew a man she did 
not care for was being joked about aspira- 
tions which he did not happen to enter- 
tain. They will make me hate Constance 
if they keep this up, and that is a still 
more horrible thought. But I can't help 
it. It is all your fault, Torresdale; on 
thy head be the sin. 

"How are you and Torry getting on 
with your play?" I ventured again val- 
iantly. 

"What play?" 

"Is n't he writing a play for you 1 ?" 

"Some day he says he intends to," and 

173 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



then she dropped her eyes or did she 
raise them? lowered her voice, or did 
she raise it? Whatever she did seemed 
abundant proof to me of how she loved 
him and of how adorably unattainable 
she was for me. 

"I should think you would be very 
fond of Torry,'' T said. 

"He has stalwart friends," she said, 
looking at me. 

"He deserves better ones," I declared, 
taking the bit between my teeth and re- 
fusing to be guided by my anxious ego. 
"I hope you will appreciate him, Miss 
Rutherford." And then I had to mop 
my brow. 

"I think I do," she said, in the young 
duchess manner once again. It might 
have had a dozen different meanings. I 
thought of all of them. One thing alone 
was clear: I cannot keep this up. The 
best way I can serve Torresdale and save 
174 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



myself is to run for it, and that is what I 
am doing. 

They are giving me more responsibility 
down in the office and thanks to that I 
am going away for a long trip in the 
West. That makes a convenient break, 
and when I return the habit of staying 
away will no doubt be securely estab- 
lished. 



175 



XXIV 




UK Avenue sparkles with a 
joyous hoi Ida)' crowd; the 
jubilant sky-scrapers reach 
high in their exuberant 
might; the staccato ot horses' hoots, the 
laughter ot the passers-by make happ\ 
music in the clear, frosty air. I am with 
you once again and it is good to be here. 
How the white* smoke curls and swirls 
in the west bree/e. In the dreary old 
clays before steam and high buildings 
they had to get along as best the}' could 
with eastles and knight's plumes. Here 
comes a cove}' of jolly little matinee 
girls, talking vivaciously, their eyes still 
big from the satisfying sentiments they 
have enjoyed. Here is a group ot sturdy 
undergraduates home for the holidays 

176 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



and properly reckless. Here are my old 
friends the engaged couple, still engaged 
and happier than ever, peering into the 
windows of antique shops, doubtless plan- 
ning their marriage for the spring. We 
shall miss them on the Avenue, but others 
will take their place. 

It is twilight now and the lights have 
been turned on, the long, even rows meet- 
ing in perspective and glowing pleas- 
antly. Dressmakers' little girls are hur- 
rying along with bundles bigger than 
themselves. Next best to wearing the 
dresses is the pride of carrying them; not 
many people are granted this distinction 
boys never, for they would not carry 
the bundles with such awed respect. 

Across the way, in the Park, children 
are coasting down a little hill. The snow 
is a bit soiled by the city, but the sleds 
glide as easily and the coasters are quite 
as happy. 

177 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



Every one I see seems glad to-day, and 
so am I, for at last I am to see her. 



"I 'LI. find out, sir; please step in.'' 

A small clock ticking energetically in 
another room. The muffled patter of 
horses' hoofs outside along the asphalt. 
But louder and faster than these seem my 
heart-beats while waiting for the familiar 
rustle. 

"No, sir, not at home." 

"Say I 'm sorry to have missed her. 
Merry Christmas to you, Robert." 

"Same to you, sir." 

The dull closing of the door, and the 
cold nakedness of the bleak Avenue 
stretching monotonously in both direc- 
tions; strident voices of ubiquitous chil- 
dren across the way ; hordes of vulgar, 
selfish-faced people; hideous brazen ho- 
tels; poor pinched- faced little girls work- 

178 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



ing overtime and carrying such big bun- 
dles how hard and hateful and dreary 
it all is, in the dusk and gloom. See that 
frowsy woman of the town; such a 
pathetic leer as she turned down the side 
street which stretches drearily down to 
the darkness and despair of the river. 
What a sorry lot we all are. The loafers 
on the benches hug themselves to keep 
warm, hands folded under their arms, 
chins on their chests, thinking, thinking, 
like me, like all of us "each one busy 
with his woe." 

She had promised to be at home to me 
at this hour. I counted upon it for so 
long how could she forget! 



I COULD not keep on by the same route; 
it was all too eloquent of her. I know 
just how the corner looks at this time of 
the evening where first I saw her face to 
179 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



face, just as I know the architectural de- 
tails of everv house ill the ncle >treet 
down which I pushed the beggar. All 
up and down the Avenue there are land- 
marks of the journey T have been travel- 
ing for so long. 

I crossed over to Madison Avenue, an 
inoffensive little thoroughfare, tavored 
of lovers and baby carriages. As it hap- 
pened I saw a pair of lovers ahead of me 
as I turned in, a happy pair, 1 judged, 
from their attitude and slow pace. They 
were walking in the same direction, but 
I would soon overtake them so that they 
could not flaunt their happine-s in my 
face for very long. Besides. I am used 
to it, I should not mind. 

They were only half a block ahead of 
me but the light was in my eyes and they 
were lost in the shadow. Presently that 
light was behind me and they emerged 
into the brightness of another light 
180 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



which flared up suddenly at that moment. 
Tt was Hulda and Torresdale. They 
were talking earnestly, and their faces 
turned toward each other were silhouetted 
for me against the darkness beyond. 
Never shall I forget that picture in black 
and white. He was half turned toward 
her as he walked and she was smiling up 
into his face. If I could only forget that 
smile. Then they passed out of the white 
light into the dark shadow and left me 
gazing after them alone. I turned reso- 
lutely to the west. Even the Avenue was 
better than this. 



12 



181 




XXV 

STOLE into the club and up- 
stairs to a room that is usu- 
ally very quiet, although it. 
is called the "Conversation 
Room"; a pleasant, subdued place of 
beautiful proportions and ugly wall dec- 
orations. Down-stairs the rooms were 
full of men, laughing, talking, drinking, 
smoking I wanted to get away from 
them. What I really wanted was to get 
away from myself, but this seems impos- 
sible, I have learned. Time passed as T 
sat alone by the fireplace. 

"Hello, Nick, how are you, dear old 
chap?" It was Torresdale, and he was 
sauntering la'/ily across the room toward 
me, with one hand in his pocket and the 
other outstretched most heartily toward 
me. His is a very flattering cordiality. 
182 



I told him that I was well and glad to 
see him, two lies. I felt ill at ease in his 
presence and longed to have him leave 
me. Strangely enough I felt almost 
afraid of him, as if there were some- 
thing momentous and sinister in his heart- 
iness. 

"You have treated me shabbily lately," 
he was now saying, touching a bell for a 
servant. "I have seen nothing of you; 
won't you dine with me to-morrow?" 

"Can't. Engaged." 

"Congratulations!" he returned face- 
tiously, but I only smiled feebly. It 
seemed such puerile wit, and I was in no 
humor even to pretend to like it. 

"I 've really seen so little of you," he 
repeated in his most charming manner, 
looking very regretful as he said it. 

"I have been out of town," I replied. 

"Yes; I hear you have been working 
hard, doing nothing but saw wood lately, 

183 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



eh? The}- tell me you h;ive taken a great 
brace clown at the oilice." 

"Who said so?" I asked. 

"\\ ho do you suppose?" he replied, 
insinuatingly. I retiised to join in his 
mood. ''Who would be most likely to 
know about you?" he continued teas- 
ingly, "and to want to talk about you?" 
He laughed a little at me. 

"I suppose you mean Miss Ogden." T 
said impatiently, wishing to get it over 
with. 

"No, I don't!" he replied to my sur- 
prise. 

"Who then?" I asked, looking up. 

"I mean Constance," he replied 
laughing at me. 

"T see," said T, and he leaned back in 
his chair to scrutini/.e me. chuckling 
softly. 

"Oh, Nicholas. Nicholas, you are such 
a beautiful bluffer." smiling in the inti- 
184 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



mately insinuating way I have seen him 
smile at her and she seemed to like it. 
"But you are right to stick to business," 
he added. ''When a young man disap- 
pears from the club," he mused, "I al- 
ways ask, is he studying medicine or is he 
engaged to be married"?" 

"I am neither," said I, laughing it off 
and arose to go. 

"I am not studying medicine," he said, 
smiling at me, "but, Nick, you can imag- 
ine how I would like to be the other 
thing." I had not asked him, but there 
was a very decent look on his face as he 
said this, and he made me feel more 
kindly toward him. 

"I am sure I have done what I could 
to comply with your extraordinary re- 
quest," I said guiltily. 

"I am sure you have, Nick; you need 
not tell me that. And I appreciate it 
too. I have been trying to show my 

185' 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



appreciation, if you care to know 
it." 

"Very good of you, I am sure. Would 
you mind telling me how?" 

I did not intend this to sound sarcastic 
and I don't believe it did, for he replied: 
''Suppose you ask Con I mean Miss 
Ogden " and laughed teasingly. "'I am 
leaving no stone unturned for you, my 
boy. A little touch here, a little dab 
there. Soon all will be right." 

"That 's good of you." said I; "but I 
wish you would not take so much trouble 
in my behalf." 

"But it 's a pleasure!" he declared. 

"It never seems to occur to you," I re- 
joined, "that you might be mistaken in 
your inferences." 

It seemed to me that with his quick per- 
ceptions he perceived exactly what I meant 
to convey but he only replied, patting me 
affectionately on the arm: "Don't yield 
186 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



to those passing moods, my boy. That is 
the way so many people make lifelong 
mistakes. I know you better than you 
know yourself and don't make any 
mistakes. Well, you need n't look so 
solemn about it," he added lightly. 
"Why do you avoid me lately 1 ? Don't 
you trust me?" he asked. 

I had not accused him. 

"I was wondering," I said, "whether 
you did well to trust me" 

"I '11 take my chances!" he laughed, 
and made me take a drink with him. 

Perhaps I was emboldened by this, for 
I said with what lightness I could com- 
mand: "Well, Torry, tell me, are you 
making progress?" feeling like an intrud- 
ing meddler as I did so. He looked at 
his watch. 

"I must be going on," he said. 
"Good-by glad to have had a glimpse 
of you once more." 

187 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

There followed a bad night. I eould 
not blame it to champagne this time. In- 
deed, now that I think of it, I had not 
dined at all that evening. 

All through the blackness ot the night 
I saw the brightness ot her taee smiling 
up at him as I had seen it gleaming in 
the ring of light on the street corner, 
while he. drinking in the richness ot it 
with his critical, heavy-lidded eyes, 
leaned toward her as it to take possession 
of her. While I la)- there stretched out 
rigid on the bed but throbbing like an 
engine, I carried on some notably bril- 
liant dialogue with my friend Torres- 
dale, and I fashioned feverish scenes far 
more powerful than any in his stories. 

We met on a far-awav, distant vast- 
ness. I don't know just what a vastness 
is but I saw the wilderness I used always 
to picture on hearing certain passages of 
the Bible. All three of us were there. 
188 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



She stood silhouetted against the pale 
orange dawn on a high cliff, looking 
down upon us, serene and beautiful as 
ever. And then . . . oh, well, never 
mind the rest; of course I came out on 
top ! 

But that does not seem to be the way 
things are managed nowadays. 



189 




XXVI 

HE young Duchess was sitting 
on a circular marble bench in 
the garden near the fountain 
where I saw her on that 
memorable occasion nearly a year before. 
She was dressed in white again. 

"But if I really cared for a girl, I 'cl 
tell her so," she was saying, "if I were a 
man." The accent was not on /, it was 
on the last word, and there seemed to be 
a wealth of scorn in it. 

"But suppose circumstances 
"Bah! A man would n't balk at cir- 
cumstances." She seemed to be rich in 
scorn this afternoon. 

"But can't you imagine certain possi- 
ble contingencies 

"No, I can't; all false pride." 
"Oh, but I don't mean just what you 
190 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



do. I am speaking of a different sort of 
thing. Unfortunately, one has to con- 
sider" 

"Consider? Nonsense! Oh, if I 
were a man, I would show you men how 
to do the business." 

I looked at her critically for several 
seconds, then swallowing other things I 
said: "I am very well content that you 
are not a man." 

"Ah, you would be afraid of me," she 
said tauntingly, "if / were a man." 

"Oh, but I am already, you know!" 
said I, and added: "How would you do 
the business? Why don't you teach me?" 

"For one thing, I would not continu- 
ally run away. And I would not inva- 
riably assume an attitude of humble infe- 
riority." 

"I see; that 's what you would n't do; 
now kindly tell me what you would do 
teach me." 

191 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"\Vhy, I would stride into her pres- 
ence with a bold front, sure of myself and 
sure of her." The Duchess imitated the 
stride, the bold front, and the sureness. 

"I see,'' said I. "''Suppose you were n't, 
though?" 

''Then I "d pretend to be ! And I 
would make love to her with mi^ht and 
main, sweep hei off her teet and into un- 
arms and "keep her there forever." 

When I finally recovered my breath I 
ventured to make this inquiry: 

"You say you 'd make love to her-- 
fell me how that \s done." tor I did not 
mean to miss anything. She scrutinr/ed 
me with a smile. "Sometimes you take 
me in completely with that in^enu man- 
ner of yours." 

"I have heard there were a <^reat many 
different ways." I said. 

"Oh, yes," she said; "some men for in- 
stance 

192 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"You, I suppose, have had to listen to 
all the ways there are, have you not?" 

She looked thoughtful a moment and 
shook her head. "No," she said, "I don't 
believe so," and seemed so earnest, and 
honest about it that T had to burst out 
laughing, which relieved my feelings 
greatly. 

"But I only want to know how you 
would do it," said I. 

"It would depend on the girl," she 
said. "Give me a girl." 

"I can't think of any," I said, being 
able to think of only one. 

Whereat she laughed compassionately 
and looked down upon me once more. 

"I should n't think you would find it 
so difficult," she said, encouragingly, and 
glanced up toward the house as she did 
so. "I should n't think you 'd have to 
look far." 

"To be sure," said I, turning about 

193 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



and facing her, "you, for instance- 
that 's not far." 

"Oh," she cried, really startled for 
once, "that 's hardly far enough!" 

"All the same," said T, judiciously, "I 
should think you would do." 

"At a pinch?" she asked. 

"At a pinch," I said, getting up to 
walk to and fro. 

"That makes it more difficult," she re- 
plied, smiling a little consciously. 

"Yes, I should think it -icould be rather 
difficult," said I, sympathetically. 

"What?" she said straightening up, 
"to make love to me?" 

"Successfully," I added gravely. 

"Oh," she said, relaxing, but looking 
up at me as she did so, "I don't believe 
you really need teaching. 

"You promised!" said I, anxiously. 

"Well," she began, then hesitated, 
laughed, and looked at me. 
194 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Well 4 ?" 

"For one thing," she began tenta- 
tively, "we always like to be told how 
nice we are." 

I looked at her critically. "You are 
rather nice," I said. 

She raised her chin as if to remind me 
that I was only a pupil this afternoon. 
"It should be done more subtly than 
that!" she said scornfully. 

"What else?" I inquired. 

"We always like our looks to be 
praised." 

"You," I remarked judiciously, "are a 
rather good-looking girl." 

She shrugged her shoulders, for that 
was not very subtle either. "And our 
intelligence to be acknowledged." 

"You must know a good deal," said I, 
quite brusquely, "or else how could you 
hold down your job?" 

"But above all," she rejoined emphat- 

195 



MY LOST IHTHESS 



ically, "his attitude must be respectful, 
worshipful ; there must he subtle homage 
in the tones of his voice, in his every 
movement when in my presenee." 

"I thought you >aid he must stride in. 
sure of himself sure of you take a su- 
perior attitude, and all that?" 

"Yes, but it is n't necessary to be rude. 
to remind one of things one would like 
to forget once in a while." 

She was smiling still, but as I live 
there was a quiver about the eorners of 
her mouth. My heart leaped to m\ 
throat. I stopped walking up and down. 

''Any man that could be rude to you.'' 
T declared with perhaps unnecessary em- 
phasis, coming (-loser to her. "ought to 
be drawn and quartered, then chopped 
into fine pieces and burned. Any man 
who would stride into your presence with 
arrogant assurance, and not fall down at 
your feet and humbly beg your pardon 
196 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



why, why good heavens, don't you see 
nobody could feel that way with you! 
because, because you are you, you see ! 
Now if I were going to tell you," I rat- 
tled on blindly, "that I dared to presume 
to care tor you, I would go down on my 
knees before you, like this, and I would 
bend my head, so, and explain before- 
hand that I was telling you all this, not 
because I thought you cared a rap to hear 
it or because I dreamed of standing any 
chance, but because it would probably 
make me feel a little better to have it 
out and over with, and you in the 
greatness of your heart would pos- 
sibly grant me this favor because you 
hate to see even a beggar suffer unneces- 
sarily." 

She laughed nervously about the beg- 
gar. "As a rule," she said, "I don't like 
them to kneel." I started to my feet. 

"Then I would come up very close to 
197 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



you, like this," she was still sitting on the 
bench and drew back as I bent over her 
"and I would look into your wonderful 
eyes so, very intently you see, because 
it would be for the last time, and then 
you would see what was there and I 
would only say, 'I love you, oh, I love 
you so! I don't know why I love you as 
I do; of course yon are the most beau- 
tiful and the best, but that can account 
for such a little bit of it. I only know 
that I love yon, love you, love you. I 
always shall.' ' 

She had kept drawing farther and 
farther back in her seat as if trying to get 
away from me as I, leaning over her. 
went wildly on; and now her head was 
back as far as it could go against the mar- 
ble panel. Her hands were tightly closed 
at her sides and she looked up into my 
eyes, which were near to hers, as if help- 
less to escape, and as if pleading to have 
198 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



me stop. Suddenly she sprang to her 
feet and brushed past me, gasping: "Here 
they are!" Then I came to myself, just 
in time, as Constance came down the ter- 
race steps, followed by Harry Lawrence. 

"Very good," pronounced Hulda to 
me in her most duchess manner, "very 
good indeed. I had no idea that you 
were so clever at imitations." Then she 
laughed nervously, but whether from 
fear that the others had overheard or 
from certainty that this was no imita- 
tion at all, I was in no condition to deter- 
mine. 

I said nothing, for the reason that I 
knew not what to say. Her laughter 
ended, and now there was a memorable 
silence. 

"Well, what 's the joke 4 ?" broke in 
Lawrence. 

"He has been telling me a story most 
amusingly," said Hulda. 
201 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



Apiin the silence. I aiding it man- 
fully. 

'"Well, fell if fo us," said Lawrence. 

Ruf Constance never said a word. 
Having glanced once af me. she looked 
af Hulda rafher longer and fhen not 
af ei flier of us a^ain. 

"He is <^oin.^ fo fell you," said Hulda 
fo Constance; "he was only practising on 
me." 

"Thanks," said Constance very quietly, 
with her back turned. "I should not care 
to hear if." 

"What the deuce!" said Lawrence, 
perplexed, impatient. "What the deuce! 
Come on and ^et some tea." For that 
had been their message for us. 

I left on the next train. There was 
only one thinjj tor me to do now. 



202 




XXVII 

IORRKSDALK!" I cried, bursting 
into his room. "I 've got to 
have a talk with you when 
can you see me? Will you 
dine with me this evening? Can't you 
make it luncheon"? When may I ex- 
pect you? Have you breakfasted"? 
Could you come now?" 

Torresdale finished the sentence he 
was writing, put down his pen, took off 
his glasses, rose, crossed the room, and 
shook my hand with deliberation. "How 
do you do?" he said. "So glad to see 
you. Do sit- down. No, in the big Eng- 
lish chair. It becomes your Gothic style 
better. There !" He pushed me down 
with both hands. "Now then, dear old 
chap, will you tell me the occasion for 
203 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



this disphiy of emotion V" He leaned 
over to touch a button on the desk and I 
waited until the buy// in an inner room 
eeased, then I answered, now more 
calmly. "I was afraid I would miss you; 
that was all. Why don't you have a 
telephone?" 

"To prevent interruptions." he replied 
whimsically. 

"Your servant did all he could to keep 
me out," I said as the latter entered. 
"Don't jump on him tor it." 

"Scotch," ordered Torry, but kept on 
looking intently at me. 

"No," T said; "I won't stop now. I 
looked all over town tor you last even- 
ing but I don't want to interrupt you 
now." 

"You have already," said Torry sim- 
ply. "So it 's all ri^ r ht, you see. I don't 
care to eat at this time of the day, thank 
you." 

204 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I won't take much of your time," 
said I. 

"I never begrudge my friends any 
amount of my time; they can have 
hours. All I request is that they keep 
out of my psychological moments which 
are sometimes the result of weeks and 
months of baffling toil and travail of 
soul. That 's what you down-town fel- 
lows can't understand about interrup- 
tions." 

"I am sorry," I repeated. 

"But this is not one of those mo- 
ments," he added gracefully, "so " and 
he pushed the decanter toward me. 

"Thank you, I '11 take mine without 
Scotch," I said, reaching past the old- 
fashioned decanter for the quaint little 
silver water-pitcher. "I never drink in 
the morning," I added in order to make 
things seem less strained. 

"Is it morning?" he inquired, wearily 
205 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



lifting his heavy lids to the small French 
clock on the mantelpiece. 

It was eleven of a bright Sunday 
morning, and Torn: was in evening 
clothes. "What do you want to talk 
about, old man." he added, filling his 
^lass, and ! gained an impression that he 
was not so careless as lie pretended to be. 

Now I had planned to carry him oft" to 
an elaborate luncheon at the quiet hotel 
where 1 he had taken me tor that memora- 
ble dinner, and lead up to it gradually: 
but perhaps it was just as well. "I want 
to talk about lied Hill." \ said abruptly. 

"You mi^ht do worse," he said, lift- 
ing the ^lass to his lips. "^ ou mi^'ht do 
worse," he repeated, putting it down 
a^ain; "though ot course we both are 
prejudiced," he added. ''I had heard 
they are out in the country apiin," he 
glanced la/ily over toward a small Louis 
XIV desk near my seat. There was a 
206 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



litter of envelops and letters there in 
various sorts of writing. I abhor that 
sort of furniture. Most of Torry's stuff 
is of that sort exeept my chair, which he 
once told me he had purchased expressly 
for me, fearing that I 'd break the gilt 
things. "They have asked me out there 
for this week," he began affably. "By 
the by, I thought you were spending 
Sunday there." 

"How did you know that?" 

"Oh, I heard." 

"I was, but I left last evening in 
order to see you." 

"I suppose you and Constance ' he 
began with a view to leading the con- 
versation as usual it seemed to me. But 
that was not what I was there for. 

"I came to tell you," I said interrupt- 
ing rather rudely, "that this thing has got 
to stop! I can't keep it up any longer. 
That 's all I came to say. Go on with 
207 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



your writing.'' I rose to go. He began 
to laugh at me. 

"Suppose you sit clown and make that 
speech all over again; it was a good 
one," he said. "What the deuce are you 
talking about?" lie added, shitting his 
position so that he was in the shadow and 
my face was still more strongly in the 
daylight. 

"You can guess what I am talking 
about," said I. 

"Don't!" he burlesqued a shudder. 
"Don't be so tragic about it." He lighted 
a cigarette. 

"Torry," I said, "tell me honestly, are 
you a friend of mine or not?" 

He laughed and said with simplicity, 
"Yep." 

"There have been times when I 
doubted it," said I, flushing angrily. 

"I would n't do that, if I were you," 
he said. 

208 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I am sorry, but I could not help my 
feelings." 

"Doubted my friendship?" 

"I feel better for confessing it." 

"But you don't doubt it now?" He 
looked at me and I looked back at him. 
"Don't you believe in me, Nick'?" he 
asked. 

I looked a little while longer and then 
I lowered my gaze and said: "If you be- 
lieve in yourself, then I believe in you." 

"Why, my dear old boy!" said Torry, 
smiling at me quizzically, "I should 
never dream of doubting your sincerity." 

"Perhaps you had better do so," said I. 

"Nothing could make me," he said, 
gazing at me and shaking his head slowly. 

"Perhaps you will be convinced when 
I tell you that there have been times 
when I wanted to wring your neck," I 
said. 

"Bad as that, eh?" 
209 



MY LOST HITHKSS 



"I can't keep up the pretence anv 
longer of being what I 'in not. So I 
came here to tell you about it. I 'in 
sorry to make such a scene oyer it." I 
laughed uneasily. 

''What do vou mean?" he asked. 

"Briefly this: two men can not care 
tor the same woman and remain tnend-. 
At least, not when [ am one ot them. It 
may go on in your books, but not here. 
Now you know what I mean." 

He seemed about to speak, then 
checked himself. He reached for his 
glass, then drew back his hand and began 
to laugh. 

"You great kid, you! What a mess of 
trouble you haye giyen yourself for noth- 
ing. Why. my dear fellow, I don't want 
your millionairess; she has no tempera- 
ment." Then he took his drink. 

I am certain that lie knew what my 
words meant to convey. So what he 
21O 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



thought to get by bluffing I can not im- 
agine unless it were merely to gain 
time. I only looked back at him intently, 
for I made up my mind that he would 
have to make the next move if T had to 
stare at him for an hour. Somehow as I 
gazed down upon him he seemed very 
puny and absurd, and for once I was not 
impressed by his cleverness, his success, or 
his temperament. They all seemed like 
upholstery to me, Louis XIV upholstery, 
though that may have been because I was 
hating him. 

Presently he made a sudden movement 
and raised his eyebrows, as if with the 
dawn of a new idea. "Ah? Is it 
possible that I have made a mistake?" 
he asked in his delicately modulated 
voice. 

I only looked at him. 

"You don't mean that you have shifted 
a steady old horse like you?" 
211 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I sneered a little, still looking clown 
upon him. 

"But, old man," he said, palpably on 
the defensive now, "how could I guess"? 
Why, that 's not in character. Don't 
you remember what you youiselt said"? 
That she had proved a disillusionment"?" 

I kept on looking. 

"Did n't you"?'' he asked. 

"But there is no doubt about what I 
mean now, is there"?" I asked. 

"None whatever," he replied, and 
laughed with apparent interest. "This is 
quite exciting," he added. 

"Then I '11 go," said T. 

"Oh, no, you won't," he said, jump- 
ing up to intercept me; "not yet. This is 
not at all a nice way to go." He 
laughed. "Nick, 'is all over between 
us?' ' He still had the impudence to be 
amused with me. 

I knew it was best to go, and yet I 
waited. 

212 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Come, sit down; tell me all about it. 
These things 'will happen. It is unfor- 
tunate, but it 's nothing to look that way 
about." 

"There is nothing to tell," I said. 

"Are you to be congratulated?" he 
asked. "Don't forget that I am to be 
your best man; I make such a bully best 
man. I think I 'd make a better best man 
than a bridegroom. Am I the first to con- 
gratulate you*?" 

"Of course there is no occasion for that 
sort of talk," said I. 

"Do you mean that she has turned you 
down?" 

"I have n't given her a chance to." 

"Have n't you?" he asked, apparently 
surprised. 

"Naturally not. I had to see you 
first." 

"That 's so; that 's just like you, Nick; 
you 're such a nice boy; but you can now, 
as far as I am concerned can't you? 
213 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



You have given me fair warning-- 
have n't you? Do you think she has 
guessed?" 

"If she has not she soon will," T re- 
plied, laughing with him now. ''That 's 
why I had to see you." 

"Well, well," he said, "that is very 
niee of you; but don't take it so trag- 
ieally. It '11 come out all right in the 
end. We Ml still be good friends, won't 
we, Nick"?" 

T suddenly perceived what a lot he was 
getting out of me, how I was playing 
into his hands as usual and turned on my 
heel abruptly. "You remember what I 
said about wringing your neck?" I re- 
marked. 

"Dear me!" he laughed. "And this is 
one of the times'?" 

"T 'm afraid so," said T. 

"Bad habit; you must break it, Nick." 

I started out, he stopped me again. 
214 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"Is n't it queer about these things'? 
Love makes asses of us all. It may be a 
grand passion, but it makes its victims 
very small. Good-by and do take it 
easy when you get out there, take it 
easy." 

From the hall as the man was handing 
me my hat I saw him cross back to his 
desk, sit down calmly, put on his glasses 
and take up his pen again, seemingly easy 
and secure. But at the time I only felt 
the relief of getting the load off my mind 
and I felt almost jubilant as I hurried 
down to the street. 



215 




XXVIII 

RAND CKNTRAI. hurry!'' I 
shouted to the first empty cub 
in sight. Then I raced sac- 
^ rilegiously down the Avenue, 
and through the familiar Sunday .streams 
of stiffly-starched people, who used to di- 
vert me and now seemed only a stupid 
crowd, fond of crossing the street slowly 
in front of my cab. I had but a few 
minutes to catch one of the infrequent 
Sunday trains. 

No doubt it would seem odd, my sud- 
den reappearance, but not more odd than 
my abrupt departure Saturday afternoon. 
And neither thing was as wild as what I 
had in mind to do when I got there. I 
was possessed of a consuming, an unrea- 
soning longing to get it out and over with 
now that I had the right to do so. 
2l6 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



They had just finished luncheon and 
were taking coffee on the terrace when I 
was announced. 

"So you have come back again," said 
Mrs. Ogden, rather coldly it seemed to 
me as I came out to shake her hand. The 
others turned and looked, and I felt that 
they all saw through me, not only the 
family, but even the other guests who 
were there with coffee-cups in their hands. 
This helped to make me rather incoherent 
in my mumbled explanation, I fear, and 
Mrs. Ogden did not nod and help me out 
as usual, but merely waited heavily for 
me to finish. I turned to salute Con- 
stance. Her hand was as cold as ice, but 
not so chilling as her manner. 

And then I turned toward Hulda, 
thinking: "What do I care how the others 
treat me now that I am going to see 
you?'' 1 But all that I saw was her long, 
lithe back as she disappeared with one of 
217 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



the girl -guests clown the steps between 
two marble urns of trailing flowers. 

"'You have had luncheon?" Constance 
asked, her look following the direction of 
mine. 

"Oh, yes,'' said I, laughing as if she 
had said something witty. "Or rather, 
no," I added. 

"Do come in," she said, leading the 
way to the dining-room. The way she 
said it made me follow slowly 

Possibly it was because the servants 
had begun clearing the table and did 
not fancy being interrupted, but I felt as 
if they too must be feeling coolly toward 
me. Even the luncheon was cold. Con- 
stance apologized in her most precise 
manner. 

"I am sure it is all my own fault," I 
assured her. She did not contradict me. 

We must have said something more 
during that ghastly meal, but I can only 
218 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



recollect telling her that I had n't a very 
good appetite and that she said that she 
was sorry. Ordinarily I might have 
burst out laughing and asked what it 
was all about, have had it out and 
over with, but this was not ordinary. 
Something had happened; it was in the 
atmosphere; but I could not make out 
what it was, though I stayed on through- 
out the chilling afternoon and evening, 
hoping that by so doing I might see 
Hulda. That first glimpse of her was 
my last. 

It seemed plausible enough when I 
heard later in the afternoon that she had 
gone out with some of the rest for a Ion" 

o 

run in Harry Lawrence's new touring- 

o 

car an engagement which had been 
made, I assumed, before my arrival. But 
when it v/as announced that she was din- 
ing in her room, because of a slight cold 
acquired during the afternoon, and was 
219 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



still too ill all the evening to come 
down-stairs then at. last I got it 
through my head that she was avoiding 
me. Why'? 

She was not down for breakfast in the 
morning, but as we drove off in the 
wagonette I thought I detected the glint. 
of a white frock behind the mullioned 
windows on the landing of the stairs. 
Why'? 



220 




XXIX 

HE earth has gone all the way 
round once more. I am still 
upon it. breathing, eating, 
smoking, working, worrying. 
(We take days off for the Fourth of 
July and New Year's, but seldom for 
our love affairs.) In all this time I 
have learned nothing except how the 
Avenue looks when the dank, gray dawn 
comes in over the East River gas-houses. 
Then I wrote a note. 

"If you don't mind very much," it 
said, "I am coming out to call upon you 
Wednesday afternoon late. I hope you 
will let me see you it is important. 
Will you?" 

It is difficult to see three hours' hard 
labor in that note, but that is what it 
221 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



cost, all the same, and I hope the House 
Committee will never discover how much 
club paper I wasted upon it. The labor 
was wasted too. for the note received no 
answer. So I telephoned; "Miss Ruther- 
ford was engaged." Then I telegraphed 
no reply. On 'Wednesday I called 
anyway. 

"Yes," said Robert, the butler, who 
approves of me, "Miss Rutherford is in." 
He disappeared with my card. I sat 
down in the reception-room and waited, 
trembling a little. 

"Miss Rutherford is not at home," said 
Robert, returning. 

"Thank you," 1 said, and retreated in 
my sorry-looking hack, defeated. 

"On the other side of the house, on the 
terrace or peradventure in the garden is 
Torresdale," T announced to myself. 
"Very likely she is in white, or maybe 
it is the blue check gingham frock, 
222 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



or else it is but what does it mat- 
ter^" 



I DINED at a miserable tavern in the vil- 
lage and then drove out again, choosing 
an hour when I knew she would be in the 
school-room with Edith, her charge. I 
wrote on my card, "Won't you please see 
me, only for a moment." Surely I had 
a right to call upon her as any other man 
upon any other girl. 

"Miss Rutherford begs to be excused," 
said Robert, returning. 

He saw my face and seemed sympa- 
thetic. "Very sorry, sir," he ventured, 
dropping his eyes. 

"Thank you," I said. "Good-night, 
Robert." 

"Good-night to you, sir." 

As I stumbled out in the darkness to- 
ward the light of my Jehu's hack I dis- 
223 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



tinctly heard Torresdale's high-pitched 
laugh ring out of the other side of the 
house. 

"Waiting for lessons to end," I said 
to myself. "To the station," I said to 
niv driver. 



224 




XXX 

HAD all sorts of theories to 
explain different elements of 
the situation, but no one the- 
ory explained the whole 
thing completely. Nor did this note 
from Hulda clear it up. I speak of this 
note as if accustomed to receiving many 
of them; it was the first and the last. It 
is of no importance to record how I be- 
haved about it. 

"I cannot tell you how sorry I am to 
be [she had written "seem" and had 
crossed it out for "be"] so rude to you. 
You are entitled to a far better explana- 
tion than I can give, but I am hoping 
that you will find it possible in some way 
to forgive me without any explanation. 
Good-by Please not to call upon me 
again. Believe me, sincerely yours." 
225 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I made a million meanings out of this. 

"Good-byY" What nonsense! Do 
not call again"? I came that afternoon 
at six o'clock. 

"Miss Rutherford has gone, sir." 

"Indeed? For how long?'' 

"She has left us, sir. She is not com- 
ing hack." 

"Gone, eh"? Where?" 

"She did not say, sir went very 
sudden like." 

"She must have left an address for for- 
warding letters, Robert." 

"Not with me, sir.'' Then he added 
in a lower voice: "Her luggage went 
down to town, sir, on the 10.06." 

"And you are quite sure she is not 
coming back, Robert?" 

"That seems to be the general under- 
standing, sir." 

Robert was an old, discreet English 
servant. I fancy he has witnessed and 
226 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



taken part in all sorts of household situa- 
tions in the years that have made him 
gray and scholarly-looking. I thought 
he could find out her address if he wanted 
to try. 

"Robert," said I, giving him a present. 

"Yes, sir." He looked up at me with 
intelligence in his inscrutable counte- 
nance. 

Then I thought better of it. "Noth- 
ing. Good-by, Robert," I said to him. 

"Thank you, sir; thank you. Good 
afternoon, sir," and I had my farewell 
glimpse of the hall of Red Hill. 



227 



XXXI 

HAVE scoured the town for 
her, bur found her not. I 
have sought out her friends, 
but none has seen her none 
had even heard the news I bore, of her 
having left the Ogdens. Wherever she 
has gone, whatever she is doing, it is 
clear she does not care to let me know or 
follow. 




228 




XXXII 

IHEN came out of Red Hill, 
most unexpectedly, this re- 
markable letter from my 
aunt, telling much I wanted 
to know, a great deal I did not care to 
hear, but nothing of what now, more 
than ever, I am determined to discover 
where my love has flown. 

"You great, naughty boy," my aunt 
wrote, as aunts will, "I 'd like to shake 
you, if you were n't so big. Why am I 
so fond of you? You are n't worth it. 

"Now, my dear, foolish nephew, I am 
not going to scold you for anything you 
have done, because knowing you I fear 
it might only make you do more and 
worse! If you wish to flirt with pretty 
governesses do so by all means and I 'm 
229 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



sure you chose an exceptionally pretty 
one. On!}', tor pity's sake. 'Jon't get 
caught at it. But if you should he so 
incautious, then do not proclaim yourself 
guilty by blushing like a boy or. il you 
can't break that engaging habit ot blush- 
ing, pray at least restrain your incrimi- 
nating impulse to flee from view by the 
next train; or, if you should be so unim- 
aginative as to do that, at any rate, when 
you have cooled down at a distance, do 
not straightway return the next morning 
so avowedly, so indelicately, so obtru- 
sively, for the sole purpose of seeing the 
interesting young person again; or, it 
you should so far forget yourself, do. 
please, final Iv come to your sense's and 
cease to pursue a governess when she 
shows the good sense to avoid you. In 
short, do not be a fool. 

"But, oh, dear me! It becomes worse 
and worse, the more I learn of the little 
230 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



comedy (which the Ogdens are doing 
their best to make into a tragedy) : spe- 
cial trips out from town to call upon the 
young woman without so much as in- 
quiring for the others! dining in the 
village to call again; sending in touching 
appeals on your card; the telephone-bell 
ringing; messenger boys busy, and so on. 
I myself have been a witness to some of 
this, and I am bound to say but 
no, I '11 say nothing, for fear you '11 
tell me that you have conceived a 
boundless passion for a governess. Tell 
me so if you wish tell her too, if you 
like only do not, I beg of you, flaunt it 
in the face of the girl you are going to 
marry. Girls do not like it. 

"Altogether you see you have made it 
exceedingly difficult for your poor de- 
voted aunt whom you do not appreciate 
to persuade the Ogdens that you are 
still attached to Constance, and that this 

231 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



amusing affair has been merely a harm- 
less bit of gallantry such as every man 
at one time or another, after marriage, if 
not before, yields to when a pretty 
woman makes up her mind to tempt him. 
But the Ogdens were always simple, 
homely folk excellent stock to marry 
into, Xick and their conservative no- 
tions of propriety are severely shocked. 
Yet, thanks to me, they no longer blame 
you. Being women they understand the 
helplessness of a mere man and more 
especially a guileless boy like your big. 
handsome self in the hands of a design- 
ing female who has brains to back her 
beauty. 

"We had all observed you suspiciously 
for some time, you may as well know, 
and so the garden scene and these sub- 
sequent astonishing gaucheries on the 
part of its hero were all that were needed 
to fan little Constance's smoldering 
232 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



jealousy into a flame of fury which ill 
becomes her Ogden repose. And now the 
governess, from being an ornament to the 
household, a comfort to its mistress, a 
beautiful influence to its daughters, the 
most efficient of social secretaries, and a 
dear friend of the family, whom 'we con- 
sidered one of ourselves,' has suddenly 
been transformed into a brazen adven- 
turess, a vain and selfish traitress, who, 
in the guise of confidante to trustful Con- 
stance, has played the most outrageous 
trick one sweet girl can play upon an- 
other. 

"Of course, they take an extreme view 
of the matter and are, I think, rather 
uncharitable, but women always are to- 
ward other women when there 's a man 
in it. They don't seem to realize that the 
poor girl has her way to make in the 
world and can not stop to consider the 
interests of others, even those to whom 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



she is beholden. Doubtless she thought 
that you were worth the capturing. You 
look it. You have the air of one who 
can command the things which being 
a bachelor you are fortunate enough to 
enjoy. How was she to know that you 
are quite as penniless as herself? It was 
a perfectly natural mistake. Even Becky 
Sharp made her mistakes at first, you 
recollect. When older she will investi- 
gate beforehand and thus save herself 
much time and all concerned a lot of 
trouble. Well, -he knows now. I told 
her. Hence her abrupt retreat from the 
field. (So if you are concerned over 
anything you may impulsively have -aid, 
you nice, innocent child, do not worry 
any longer. She will never hold you to 
it, my dear.) 

"In my only intenicw with her she 
still maintained a statuesque calm, the 
pose of blameless superiority, as if site 

234 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



were the injured one, which had so exas- 
perated Mrs. Ogden, and which con- 
vinces me that the young woman is quite 
justified in believing in her future on the 
stage. 'I suppose you know that you have 
ruined my nephew's prospects in life,' I 
said abruptly; 'he has no others, Miss 
Rutherford,' I added. 

"I am convinced that she was surprised 
at this she must have been but she is 
such a consummate actress that she con- 
cealed her chagrin and disappointment 
under a mask of lofty indignation. 'I 
am sorry for him,' she said really quite 
condescendingly 'but after this, sup- 
pose you do your own match-making. I 
am little Edith's governess, not your 
nephew's,' and she swept out of the room. 

"Two hours later she left the place 
with your amusing Mr. Torresdale. 
Where she has gone, or what she is doing, 
we do not know, but I am convinced that 

235 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



she can take care of herself. The field 
is clear. Come when I give the signal. 
Constance still believes that she hates 
you furiously. That is encouraging 
rather than otherwise the little dear. 
She will forgive you if you approach her 
as I direct. Women will always forgive 
when they can't get what they want 
without forgiving." 



236 




XXXIII 

>OMiNG up the Avenue glis- 
tening in a soft spring rain I 
found my love alone, walk- 
ing very slowly toward the 
north with a fine, brave look on her 
sweet young face. All I could see at 
first were certain downy tendrils of light 
brown hair which the bright spring mist 
made sparkling and wonderful against 
the black velvet collar of her long blue 
rain-coat; then came into view the deli- 
cate line of her cheek, and I knew that it 
was my beloved and that I had found 
her, alone in the teeming city where such 
as she should never be alone. The slop- 
ing shoulders under the loosely fitting 
coat such inefficient shoulders for bat- 
tling with the world, the slender young 
body, not fashioned for fighting all 

237 



MY LOST nrC'HESS 



that is tender and appealing in woman 
called to me there in the mist and rain. 

There was little now of the mysterious 
personage about her, no strange duchess 
to be worshiped from afar; she was my 
heart's desire, the woman I wanted for 
my very own; my mate, to protect and 
care tor till the end. And this I swore 
she should be as I hastened to overtake 
her. I could not speak. I only ran to 
her side rejoicing and startled her so 
cruelly. 

"Oh!" she cried, and then "It is 
you?" she asked in such a different tone 
and with a little flutter of mam- sudden 
sensations, one of them relief. I think, 
for she sighed as if quite content to have 
me there for the moment, and gave me 
her hand. Through two thicknesses of 
gloves it set me all a-tingle. 

"I have frightened you," was all that 
I could say at first. 

238 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



She looked up at me with such dear 
trust in her cloudless eyes. "Now I 'm 
not frightened/' she said, and let. her 
ga/.e rest on mine for a moment longer, 
with a glow my heart made the most of. 
I shall never forget that look; that much, 
at least, is to be mine forever. She was 
no longer frightened, yet there was 
evidence of a little tumult within, which 
even the rain-coat failed to hide. 

So for a space we two walked side by 
side in silence, each wondering how 
fared the world and how much was 
known across the gulf of scarce a yard 
between us. 

"It 's such an adorable afternoon," she 
said. 

"Is n't it?" I responded, looking down 
at her face. 

"See the soft, floating mists." 

"I have seen them," I responded. 

There was a pause, then: "'Oh, I 'm 

239 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



so sorry about it all," she broke out ab- 
ruptly. 

"About what?" 

"Everything." 

But I had room in my heart only to 
be glad, and said nothing. All that had 
happened since last we were together 
seemed a long nightmare, now ended. 
What the future held for me would be 
discovered in a little while; but tor the 
present it was enough to know that she 
was beside me, and. best of all, that she 
was willing, even glad, perhaps, to be 
there. Of Torry I did not think at all 
for the moment. She still found much 
to say about the mist and the reflections 
on the glistening street. 

"I am glad to see you," T interrupted. 
"I have tried to see you for a long time." 

There was a pause. "I begged you not 
to," she replied. 

"You did not tell me why." 
240 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I had hoped you would not ask that." 

"You prefer not to let me know?" 

There was another pause; for an in- 
stant her shadowy eyes sought mine 
I '11 swear it with a thoughtful tender- 
ness I had never dreamed could be there, 
and they seemed as clear and frank and 
free from guile as a little child's how 
was I to know? Then, before my surg- 
ing heart could word its clamoring, she 
was away, soaring out of my reach like 
the young duchess of other days, for, 
looking down at me with an amused 
smile: "It 's nice to have seen you," she 
said conventionally; "good-by. You 
must n't come with me." 

I ignored that, having no thought of 
complying. "I sent you a number of 
letters," I said. 

She made no comment. 

"Did you receive them?" 

"I received them." 
241 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"You did not. answer." 

"No." 

"Are you answering now?" 

"Please come no farther." she replied. 

"How tar are you going?" 

"I? I 'm going very tar." She 
stopped to dismiss me. 

''I, too, am going very far." I did not 
stop. 

'"'It will only make more trouble." she 
said, but started on with me. 

'Tor you?" I asked. 

"Xo, oh, no," she replied. "Xothing 
can make an}" more trouble tor me." 

She said it lightly, as it wanting no 
one's sympathy, but on her sweet profile 
T saw a look which cut me to the heart. 
T felt a melting glow of tenderness and 
then a suffusing wrath a passion of pro- 
tection. "As tor those who have been 
unkind to you!" I began, somewhat ex- 
citedly it seems, for she put a restraining 
242 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



hand upon my arm and bade me hush 
as if I were a boy. There were other 
people in the world, I now discovered, 
some of them were passing us in the mist 
upon the Avenue. I looked down at the 
hand on my arm. She took it away. 

"You must promise not to do anything 
of the sort," she said, laughing at me, 
though not unkindly. "You do promise, 
do you not?" 

I promised nothing, but was reminded 
of a time long ago when I wished to 
thrash the theatrical manager who had 
been rude to her. That was the day she 
ceased to be the strange lady of my im- 
agination and became the woman of my 
heart, though I did not know it then. 
We walked on in silence for a moment. 

"By the way," she said, "tell me what 
you thought of doing; but you must n't 
do it !" she added quickly. 

I laughed from sheer joy of her. 

243 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



''Let 's not think about all that just 
now,'' I said, walking taster. "We are 
taking a walk. Nothing else matters." 

But the taster we walked the taster 
beat my heart, and the higher up the 
Avenue we went the higher rose my 
hopes. 

"This is where I met you with your 
beggar," I said. "You remember the 
beggar?" 

"The dear beggar!' she answered, 
then added: "He brought me a good 
friend I proved unworthy ot him." 
She seemed to mean it, and was thinking 
it over, apparently, her ga/e tar away to 
the north, as she used to look when lirst 
T saw her on this street, long, long ago. 

T smiled and held my peace, biding my 
time. "Back there by St. Thomas's was 
where you once spoke to me by mistake. 
Do you recall that?" 

"Every time I pass." 
244 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"And here is the club window where I 
used to look at you. Did you ever for- 
give me for that*?" 

"I liked It." 

"But you stopped coming by this way 
after you knew it." 

"Not until after you found out that T 
knew it." 

"How did you happen to be coming up 
the Avenue this time?" I asked. 

She answered at once: "Hoping to see 
you." 

She said it casually, but I took heart. 
"Just to see me?" 

"Just to say good-by. This is our last 
walk together, Nick. May I call you 
Nick?" 

I did not refuse her permission to call 
me Nick. But for my part, I could not 
believe it would prove to be our last 
walk, though as yet I would not tell her 
so. "Then let 's make it. a long one," I 
245 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

replied. "Do you remember the path 
around the reservoir in the Park? It 
fine up there on a day like this, little 
waves slapping against the stone ma- 
sonry, and the smell ot the water, and 
sometimes there are wild duck- out in 
the middle." 

"Let 's go up and see 'the ducks,'' she 
said. 

So, side by side, we marched upon the 
reservoir, but I forgot all el.-e except 
that we two were together. Ot what >he 
thought I could only guess and hope. 

By and by we came to a little bridge 
leading off from the reservoir over the 
bridle-path. This we crossed, and T re- 
member how a reckless rider came plung- 
ing through below us, and 'that we could 
not see him, though so near, tor the tog 
had closed in thick about us. The gal- 
loping died away in the hidden distance. 

Soon we came upon the Ramble with 
246 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



its tangled paths, where once we met, 
where first I heard her speak, before we 
knew each other. I thought of that; she 
too, perhaps I did not ask her. And 
now we reached a broad and open grassy 
space with trees on either hand, though 
these we could not see, nor aught else now 
except each other, as on we strode to- 
gether through the soft and ever-thick- 
ening mists. It was silent ' and mys- 
terious there, and we might have been 
upon a lonely moor, a million miles from 
the city and its strident noises, though in 
its very center, the calm storm-center; 
and now my heart set up a furious clamor 
to be heard. 

"We must turn back now," she said, 
so evenly, so easily. "See, it is growing 
dark. Our last walk together has been 
very nice." 

"No, our first one really together," 
I replied, turning toward her gently as I 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



spoke, "but not the last. All those other 
walks, all I tried to do it was all a lie. 
I love you," I said, close to her glinting 
hair. "I think you know that." 

"Don't, Niek!" she cried with a gasp 
as if I had hurt her thoughtlessly. "I 
did n't know it, I did n't!" and now was 
all a-tremble. "Yes I did, but you 
must n't." Yet through her crimson dis- 
tress I thought I saw a golden gleam of 
rejoicing at my words. But the fog was 
thicker than ever now and the light was 
nearly gone. 

"Must n't? I will!" I declared. 
"Nothing can stop me now r !" and I 
pressed close to read her shadowy face. 

"I can," she said more to herself than 
to me, "and I will!" she kept retreat- 
ing quickly from me "I don't want you 
to. I came to say good-by." 

"Good-by? What nonsense!" I cried, 
as with a bound I overtook her. "I have 
248 





I c;ime to say good-by 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



found you now at last the real you." 
And I loomed high before her in the fog, 
blocking her escape, I thought. 

But beside her branched another path 
I could not see. Down this she darted. 
An intervening bush concealed her as I 
quickly turned to follow. I heard her 
footsteps. I rushed toward the sound. 
The sound ceased suddenly. There 
was utter stillness. I could see nothing. 
Then like a whisper in my ear, "Good-by, 
Nick," I heard almost beside me. She 
had stepped off the asphalt path. She 
was out there upon the soundless grass 
somewhere. I pressed through the dense 
fog toward the voice. My outstretched 
hands found only mist. I spoke her 
name. I knew that she was near me. 
She kept silent. I called louder. "An- 
swer me, Hulda!" 

No answer came. 

Presently, far below me, I heard a 
251 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



li^ht step cross the walk. I ran to the 
spot. She was <:one. 

Then silence, and the. fo<j;. and after 
that black darkness. 




XXXIV 

[HEN I reached the club, not 
many minutes later, the first 
man I saw was Torresdale, 
standing calmly before the 
broad hall fireplace, legs apart, hands in 
pockets, talking glibly to a group of 
men I do not know about English poli- 
tics. 

Hating myself for appealing to the 
man I hated and feared above all men, 
but who alone might tell me what I 
now must know, I drew near him. "Just 
a moment," I said, apologizing for the 
interruption, "it is important," and led 
him apart. 

"Oh, is that all you want to know*?" 
he said, smiling quizzically at my, dis- 
comfiture. "I thought from the way you 

253 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



began that you had been caught in this 
cra'/y market, and were going to strike 
me for a loan. Did you ever see such a 
market ?" 

"Do you, or do you not know what 
she is doing, where she is staying?" I 
asked, hanging upon his answer, wishing 
to ask a thousand other questions. 

"Naturally," he replied easily. "Win- 
did n't. you ask me long ago? You seem 
to have avoided me lately, Nick. In fact, 
I thought you had lost all interest in us." 

How I hated him for that "us," won- 
dering what it meant, and knowing the 
futility of inquiring. "Then you '11 tell 
me where T can find her?" 

"Why not?" he asked. 

"I don't know," I said, biting my lips, 
"but will you?" 

"No," he replied, with a sickening 
pause; "I '11 do better: I '11 take you to 
see her, this very evening. Sorry I can't 
254 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



dine with you; I have sent up my order 
with this gang," he said, turning toward 
the group he had left to speak with me. 
"Don't eat a big dinner, Nick; we '11 
start early. Oh, by the way, old chap"- 
he put his hand on my shoulder "inter- 
esting mix-up out at Red Hill, I under- 
stand." 

"I assumed that you understood it," I 
replied, moving out of reach of his arm. 

"Not entirely. But I have done what 
I could to restore order." 

"Have you 1 ?" said I, moving farther 
away; "you were n't successful." 

"It '11 come out all right in the end, 
my boy, it '11 come out all right in the 
end," he called after me. So, laughing 
and saying: "Until after dinner then," 
he turned toward his friends and stepped 
lightly into the conversation again as if 
my interruption had not occurred, as if 
I did not enter his existence. 

255 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I dined with a classmate who is now a 
clergyman and with whom I forgot to 
converse, keeping my eye on the time, 
and then was allowed to wait many min- 
utes by Torresdale who, when he joined 
me in the hall, was profuse in his apolo- 
gies for forgetting. Xow in apparent 
haste he ordered a cab and scribbling an 
address upon the club stables' card, 
handed it to the man at the door as it in 
too much of a hurry to tell me our des- 
tination. 

"Mind telling me where you 're taking 
me?" I asked as he jumped in beside me. 

"You said you wanted to see the 
Duchess, did n't you?" 

I made no reply. 

"I am taking you to see the Duchess." 

I did not fancy his debonair jocularity 
as if nothing had happened. "Mind 
making another matter equally clear?" I 
asked. 

256 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



He laughed indulgently at my sar- 
casm. "Fire away," he said. 

"Did you ever think I really cared for 
Constance Ogden?" It seemed necessary 
to put it thus brutally. 

"I did n't think much about it. Hulda 
and every one else seemed to think so 
your aunt said so. Oh, I saw your aunt 
out there the other day. She 's all in a 
panic over you; had received a cold little 
note from Constance breaking an engage- 
ment for next week because you are 
to be one of your aunt's party. Con- 
stance used her mother's health as a pre- 
text. So palpably a pretext that, 'if it '11 
do for them, it '11 do for me,' says your 
aunt to herself she has humor, Nick 
and over she came on the run to inquire 
after 'dear Maggie's' health. She 's a 
great piece of work. She had guessed 
the real trouble in a minute. When she 
arrived she found Mrs. Ogden in such a 

257 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



healthy rage that she forgot even to men- 
tion her regular symptoms which must 
indeed have alarmed your aunt. They 
got right down to business. Oh, she 's 
a piece of work. Wish I had an aunt 
like that she 'd make a man of me." 

I waited until he finished, then I re- 
peated: ''Did you ever think I really 
cared for Constance'?" 

"I thought you ought to. It would 
have been more in character." 
"You mean you wanted me to." 
"Well, for that matter, what did you 
want me to do, eh?" 

"Only to play the game fairly." 
His face suddenly turned toward me. 
I could not see its expression in the dim 
light, but his tone showed resentment. 
"Of course you know I would n't stand 
that from most fellows. Wait till the 
end of the game before you make such in- 
sinuations." 

258 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



The cab rumbled along in silence for 
a moment. Then he went on again, as if 
unruffled: "Yes, it 's a grand old mix- 
up. I would n't have missed it for the 
world all the elements of real comedy. 
Of course I was n't on the inside, but a 
good deal percolated through could n't 
help doing so. Why, the very at- 
mosphere of the place reeked with it. 
Even the men-servants and the maid- 
servants are on, and for all I know the 
oxes and the asses too. Are n't a pack 
of women amusing when once they turn 
on a person they have liked?" He 
paused a moment. "By the way, Nick, 
they tried to make me think that you, 
too, had been rather horrible not only 
to them, I mean, but to me. Now, what 
do you think of that?" 

"I have n't been thinking much about 
you, I 'm afraid," I muttered. "Miss 
Rutherford is dependent on her own re- 
259 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



sources, T understand. How is she to 
support herself ? Do you happen to 
know?" 

"I told them there was nothing in their 
amusing charges. T 've got all that 's 
coming to me,'' he chuckled, "I 'in not. 
worn- ing/' 

"Has she secured another position as 
governess or something?'' 

"Dear, no! She can't. The Ogdens 
have seen to that. As your wonderful 
aunt says, 'she is decorative but dan- 
gerous' no one wants governesses who 
will flirt with one's guests. Here we 
are." 

The cab drew up before an old-fash- 
ioned high-stooped house, exceedingly 
shabby. It was on a side street, not far 
from Broadway. Torresdale led me to 
the basement entrance. From behind a 
cage-like door an old man arose, bristling, 
then said, "Good evening, Mr. Torres- 
260 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



dale," quite respectfully, "you 're kite, 
sir." 

Wondering, I followed my companion. 
Near the entrance hung a sort of bulletin- 
board. Upon it I saw a list of names 
and numbers. We passed through a 
dingy hall, musty smelling, then turned 
to the left through an opening in a thick 
wall, evidently cut through the side of 
the house, and then into a darker passage 
and up a step or two. I saw brighter 
lights beyond and heard suppressed voices, 
one of them angry. They echoed oddly. 
It was a bleak, barn-like place, quite spa- 
cious, with the raw, bare bricks of the 
wall behind us, and in front, platforms, 
scaffolding, and dirty canvas-covered 
frames with numbers daubed on them. 
"Old-style house," said Torresdale. 
"See what a high paint-loft." I looked 
up and saw ropes and pulleys reaching 
far overhead into the darkness. "I once 
261 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



had a production of my own here." he 
said. Just then I saw a woman scurry- 
ing past, dressed in an extravagant cos- 
tume, and realizing that I was behind 
the scenes in a theater. I thought of 
man}- things. Dust and disillusionment 
lay thick about me. 

''A fine old stage"- -Torresdale was 
still talking "see how deep it is. They 
annexed that once respectable home we 
came through for dressing-rooms. That 
leaves plenty of off-stage space, you see. 
Man}' a famous old player has made hi> 
bow here and man}' a poor one too. for 
that matter dead and now forgotten. 
We 'd better go out in front; we '11 be in 
the way here presently. The grips have 
struck the first set and now the}" 're hust- 
ling up the one for the second act. 
Everything 's stiff and unwieldy at first. 
This is the dress rehearsal. T/u'\' have to 
rehearse tltcir parts as well as the players, 
262 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



That 's why the stage-manager 's swear- 
ing so. To-morrow is the first night. 
They '11 be still more excited then. This 
production has been rushed through in a 
hurry." 

I followed where he led, past men in 
shirt-sleeves sweating, and through a 
dirty iron door behind the boxes and out 
into the auditorium. 

A handful of people there, mostly of 
the profession, it seemed, nearly all of 
them men, smoking. Their hats were on. 
Several of them nodded at Torresdale 
abstractedly. There was the feeling of 
a lull, a waiting expectancy. A group of 
men were standing down by the orchestra 
railing, leaning upon it discussing some- 
thing earnestly. An elderly man was 
gesticulating excitedly before a young 
one who shook his head doggedly. 
"The old man is the producer. That 
young chap is the author," said Torres- 
263 



MY LOST DUCIIKSS 



dale "the one biting his nail-, poor 
devil. They 're trying to bull}' 
him into taking one ot their 'sug- 
gestions.' They are as bad as editor-." 
he added with a smile, "and not so 
polite." 

We took seats half-way down. ""What 
is the name of this play V" 1 asked. 

"It is n't a play: it 's a musical piece." 
he replied, "and it 's ^oin^ r to make a hit 
-a bi<; hit." 

"She 's not ^oin^ to appear in that sort 
of thin^V" I exclaimed. 

"But this is a very nice, refined one," 
said Torresdale, lau^hin^ a little at me. 
I suppose. ''Ot course, this is n't just the 
sort of beginning we wanted for her. but 
you know how it is, one has to take what 
one can <j;et, you know. Man}' a famous 
actress has bejjjun her climb toward the 
heaven of stars from this round of the 
ladder. Wait and see." 

Was this one of his jokes? T did not 

264 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



think I would see her here, but I 
waited. 

I heard hammering behind the cur- 
tain, and the loud voice again, "Look 
out for those top-lights!" Finally the 
noises stopped. "Stand by!" called the 
voice, "stand by!" 

The talking near us ceased. The house 
was darkened, the footlights were turned 
on, the orchestra began its work, and the 
curtain arose upon a rather beautiful syl- 
van dell, representing a court in fairy- 
land, it seemed, with a chorus of fairy 
youths and maidens flitting about, who 
presently came down to the footlights 
and began singing. 

"Look up, you need not worry," said 
Torresdale, not unkindly. "She 's not on 
in this number." 

The elderly man I had noted before, 

the producer, raised his hand for quiet. 

The singing ceased, the orchestra stopped 

in the middle of a bar. Every one turned 

265 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



toward him respectfully. "Would you 
mind beginning over again "?" he asked 
in a kind, melodious voice; "and you, 
Margery, please be careful not to mask 
those up-sf.age with your wings it 's all 
right, dear, we are n't used to them yet, 
you know/' So the}- began over again. 

"You see how considerate the}' are'?" 
asked Torresdale, poking me. "Most 
misunderstood people in the world. To 
be sure, you can still find the martinet 
method employed by some producer.--, but 
more and more of them nowadays are dis- 
covering that it -pays to be kind. Players 
are as sensitive as children, but they '11 
w r ork their heads off for you if you 're 
kind, kind and firm." 

A fairy in diaphanous garments came 
on and waved a wand or did something. 
Others came on and some of them sang 
and some of them danced. I did not 
know just what was taking place. 

"Some of these little things have tal- 
266 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



cut," Torresdale resumed, critically; "a 
kind of talent you people down-town 
seldom appreciate, though you like to 
watch it. They are foolish, flighty chil- 
dren for the most part, and yet some- 
times even one of these enjoys a certain 
sense of creation, gets an artistic satis- 
faction which you and your kind can 
never know or understand. For example, 
that eminently caressable-looking one 
there in baby blue to match her infantile 
smile, she does this sort of thing eight 
times a week for fifteen dollars per, and 
manages to keep a touring-car on her 
savings. Pity her if you must and she 
will be pathetic enough some day but 
don't mind if meanwhile she, too, some- 
times feels, under that tinsel-covered 
corsage, a certain sense of superiority to 
your complacent smugness, your impris- 
oned respectability, which people like 
you think so fine and enviable." 

"Oh, shut up!" I said, unable to con- 
267 



MY LOST DrC'HESS 



trol myselt an}" longer. "Why did you 
!>ring me here?" 

He turned and smiled at me. ''Wait/' 
he said. 

There was a flare oi music and then a 
burst ot applause as three pretty, fhiilv 
girls ran out dressed in very long trains 
with huge white picture hat-. But she 
was none of the>e. From the other side 
three slender voung men came mincing 
out, dressed in v.'hite flannel suits and 
straw hats. Some ot the professional 
audience applauded their triends. 

T felt Torresdale's eyes upon. me. and 
once I glanced at him. He was smiling 
quizzically. 

"T think T '11 go." T said; "you know 
she 's not here." 

He put a restraining hand on mv knee 
and just then. "The Duehe.--s!" shouted 
the chorus. "Here comes the Ducht 1 . 
and as the}- pointed toward the back oi 
268 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



the stage the side of the enchanted hill 
opened, and I saw the Hulda I had lost, 
a few hours ago in the mist. 

Even in my dumb amazement I could 
not fail to note how radiant and won- 
derful she was in court robes with a 
coronet on her head ; and, whether she 
liked the tinsel make-believe or hated it, 
she was playing the part well, in such a 
way that no one might guess what she 
felt beneath. 

It gave me a strange, dreamlike effect 
of unreality to see her up there, and with 
it came that haunting sense of recogniz- 
ing something experienced once before. 
T had felt the same thing the time I first 
discovered her a governess at Red Hill. 
There, too, she seemed to be playing a 
part and with this same easy grace, this 
same detached and sparkling interest in 
the things about her, this same undis- 
turbed indifference to what I or all the 
269 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



world might think of her. A moment 
before I feared that she might be marred 
and cheapened by appearing here: no\v I 
knew that her superb disdain could carry 
her through anything, with grace and 
dignity and halt-smiling humor. How 
hopelessly I loved her! and how had I 
dared to tell her soV 

Again I became aware of Torre-da e 
ga/ing at me. "Yes, Nick, a pretty good 
entrance for a beginner.'" he whispered. 
"You 'd never guess that girl was scared 
to death perhaps she is n't: 1 don't 
know. She never lets any one find out 
what she really feels. She 's such a thor- 
oughbred. What a walk! What a pres- 
ence! I wonder where she learned it." 

There was no applause, because she 
was only an "extra" without a line to 
speak, to be unnamed upon the program, 
unknown even to this audience. Rut a 
hush of respectful attention had come 
270 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



over the house. Her delicacy made an 
appeal even to those who did not appre- 
ciate nor desire delicacy. 

Now she came quietly down the stage 
and took her place beside a gilded throne 
on the left, and others in turn were an- 
nounced and hailed by the waiting 
chorus. "The Princess!" they shouted, 
and, finally, "The Queen, the Oueen!" 
more ecstatically than ever, and this time 
all burst into loud huzzahs, as the star 
entered, bowing to the applauding little 
audience, and took her place swaggeringly 
upon the throne with the ladies of the 
court grouped about and the chorus 
dancing before her. 

"Look at our Hulda!" whispered Tor- 
resdale enthusiastically. "See how still 
she stands. See how contained and re- 
served she looks, as if unaware of the 
most critical audience she will ever have, 
within a few yards of her. There ! She 
2 7 1 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



sees YOU and she never even moved. I 
was not supposed to brinjj; vou here. I 
could n't reMst it. She makes that poor 
queen look like what she i- in real ifV. 
\o wonder (jenevieve ha- be: r un to kirk 



make trouble tor Hulda. Mo-' actresses 
when the}- try 'hi<:h-lif c" part- think the}' 
must hold their chins in the air like tha f 
and snub everybody in su:ht. It 's ludi- 
crous and rather pathetic the way they 
try to assume an air of haughty supe- 
riority. But look at t!ie Duche . It 
is n't merely because Hulda happens to 
have been presented at a real court that 
she is doin^ this so well. It 's because 
she does n't have to assume anything; 
she 's ^ot it already. She 's //.' T tell 
you. Nick, before the week is out they '11 
be flocking here to see our Duchess walk." 
A^ain I felt his qui'/y.ical eyes upon 
me, but I made no comment. 
272 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"The word will go out along Broad- 
way that there 's something new here, 
something new and different. She '11 be 
made; she '11 soon be famous; my predic- 
tion will come true. . . . Do you re- 
member that evening on the club roof- 
garden? I said the time would come 
when we should boast of having known 
that governess." 

And now my blood began to boil, as I 
thought of to-morrow with the public 
here to ogle her. For the moment I had 
forgotten this. The music and the lights, 
the glitter and the glamour I had been 
dazzled. But now I realized what it 
\vould mean. This handful of specta- 
tors near me did not matter; they looked 
upon her with cool, professional eyes, 
critical, impersonal. But to-morrow! 
My hands clenched as I thought of 
certain ones who attended every first 
night. Her beauty and her fresh young 

273 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

charm, her sparkling smile, her quiet 
poise I knew how their eyes would 
fasten on my Hulda. It was not a plea- 
ant thought to contemplate in an}" case: 
but tor me who loved her and had so 
nearly won her not halt a day ago. it 
was exquisite torture. 

"Torn'," I remarked as quietly as I 
could, "why have you let her do diis 
sort of tiling?" 

"Why are most of them doing it. 
Xick? Why did you and I do a lot of 
unpleasant apprentice jobs when we be- 
gan our trades? Did you think that be- 
cause she happens to be good-looking and 
has played leading roles in amateur 
comedy she could practise a difficult pro- 
fession without learning it could jump 
upon the stage and grab the star's part 
out of her hands? "\ ou have heard tales 
of that sort. You probably believed 
them. They don't come true. She '11 
274 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



have to learn to act before she becomes 
an actress." 

"She '11 not learn it here," T answered. 
"This is no play this is a parade." 

"Then why don't you get her a part 
in a real play?" he asked. 

I had no answer. 

"It 's too late in the season, Nick," he 
said. "Xo new plays are being produced 
just now. This is the best we could get 
for her to start with. Could hardly have 
got this, even with her looks and my 
pull, if I had n't written in the bit for 
her myself. The playwright is a friend 
of mine. I thought you 'd like the name 
of the part a delicate compliment to 
you." 

"Tony, you ought n't to let her do it." 

"Nick, you ought n't to make her do 
it." 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"Well Nick, it was n't my fault she 

275 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



lost her job at Red Hill." He indicated 
the stage and. "You "re responsible for 
her being up there," lie said. . . . "That 
side-piece is too tar on stage. I '11 be 
back in a moment.'' As he rose he leaned 
over me. "My boy." he said, still 
smiling, but I thought more kindlv. "on 
the whole you are taking it rather well. 
Abstract! v it is hard, of course, lor me to 
understand your extreme view, but sit- 
ting beside you T find I can almost sym- 
pathize with it. T get an inkling of it 
every now and then. It 's very quaint." 
Then he strolled down to speak to some 
one. 

While he was busy with the others I 
stole in behind the scenes, unnoticed, and 
waited until she left the stage, relaxing 
slightly from her make-believe, I 
thought, as she drew nigh, walking 
slowly. She did not see me as I waited 
there in silence, a little dizzy at the 
276 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



thought that she was coming toward me 
and that now at last we were to meet 
each other face to face again, she who 
had vanished in the mist and I who loved 
her. She came so near that by the strong 
light behind me I could see the paint 
upon her tender cheeks, the thick particles 
of black clinging to her wondrous lashes. 
Without a start or any sign to show that I 
had been discovered she turned a little to 
the left and disappeared behind a bit of 
scenery. Perhaps she had not seen me 
waiting in the shadow. 

T sought the ancient doorkeeper, 
bribed him, and sent her word that I was 
there to see her upon a matter of im- 
portance. I stayed in the deserted hall- 
way. Word came back that she was very 
sorry not to see me, and please not to 
wait. 

Then I hurried out, for I knew that the 
second of the two acts was nearly fin- 

^77 



MY LOST DIXTIKSS 



ished, to a hotel around the corner, and 
scrawled this line: "I Mease ict me see you, 
if only tor a moment. It is so im- 
portant." This I sent sealed to her 
dressing-room. My answer came back 
swiftly, and was brief: "Impossible." It 
was written hurriedly in her hand on my 
envelop, apparently with the thick black 
pencil used for shading her eyes. The 
envelop was empty. 

So I waited outside 'the stage-door. I 
waited long. 

"What are they doing in there all this 
time"?" I asked the doorkeeper. 

"Running through the second act 
again." he said, and grinned at me im- 
pudently. A man pacing up and down 
before the stage-entrance was not to him 
an unfamiliar sight. And as I realized 
this, the disquieting thoughts came flood- 
ing over me afresh. I could no longer 
keep them from me when I tried. 
278 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



And I was responsible for her being 
here. . . . 

Waiting is such nervous work. 



SHE was the last to come out from the 
dressing-rooms and hang her key beside 
the bulletin-board. 

She came alone and wore once more 
the long blue rain-coat of our misty after- 
noon. She seemed such a plucky girl, so 
quietly confident and oh, so innocently 
unconscious of what lay before her on the 
morrow. I, w T aiting in the shadow, could 
hardly wait for her to reach me. 

"Hulda!" I burst out in an excited 
whisper, "you must n't do this! It 's 
out of the question! This place these 
people and to-morrow! You of all 
women !" I was overwrought by the 
day's emotions, and did not realize how 
this would affect a girl of spirit. 
279 



MY LOST Dl CTTKSS 



I was dimly aware fha< I !r.ul startled 
her, but she was calm \\ hen .-he answered : 
""\ on need not come to-morrow. 

"Xor you, IIuld;i. flulda! \vill you 
marry me?" 

She was not -tarried now. nor wa- she 
any lon^'( j r calm. S!ie seemed tunou-. 
''I'hanks tor your generosity," she said: 
''I could not dream of imposing upon it." 
and turned tcn\'ard the open stap'-en- 
trance a<j;ain as it e.\[)ei'tinij; some one. 

Tt made me- frantic. "Hulda! stop 1 
What does all this mean? At least. 
have a ri^ht to understan.il \'ou, a ri ^In- 
to some sort of explanation. \Yhy are 
you doin^; this thin;.r"? And v.'hy. TIukl;i. 
wliy did }"ou look tor me to-day?" 

"To say ^ood-by. Perluups }'ou did 
not hear me. I 'm reach'. I'orr}'." slie 
called. He approached, talking briskly 
with two other men. 

"Good-night, old chap," said Torrcs- 
280 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



dale to me as if nothing had happened. 
I stood aside to let them pass. Her long 
blue rain-coat brushed my arm. 



281 




KT must have been well on 



when I 
tramping 



toward mornin 
ended my nigh 
at Torresdale's rooms. I 
now was desperate. 

He was sitting in the dark before an 
open fire, but seemed glad to welcome 
me. Fie said he had been thinking about 
me, and turned on the lights. 

"Torry," I began at onee, ''tor God's 
sake, help me. will you? ^ ou say I got 
her into this hole; won't )'ou help me get 
her out before to-morrow night? She 
does not reali'/e what she 's doing but 
vou surely reali'/e !" 

He looked up and laughed as T began. 

but checked himself. "I be^ your par- 

don, Xick," he said, ''but you look so 

tragic. You sound as if you 'd gone to 

282 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



a Bowery joint from a rescue mission. 
You are taking it too seriously. You are 
almost hysterical. Nick, upon my word, 
I don't believe you ever were in love be- 
fore; a great big boy like you!" 

I turned away. I was in no mood for 
this sort of thing. 

"Wait," he said. "Sit down, Nick." 
"Torry," I resumed, for I could not 
afford to lose my temper now; too much 
was at stake; "I don't know what your 
real attitude toward her is" I paused 
for a reply; none came except his quiz- 
-/ical, smiling scrutiny "nor hers to- 
ward you; but you seem to have some 
influence over her. I have not. She 
does n't confide in me. But you know 
what my attitude toward her is. Could 
we work together on this thing? Will 
you help me prevent her going on with 
it?" If he had any regard for her, I 
thought, he must surely feel as I did. 

283 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"The lingering taint ot Puritanism 
that ha-- wrought such havoc in all our 
Anglo-Saxon art!" he laughed, "the ig- 
norant prejudice against the stage, which 
keeps it down down, so they can keep 
on condemning it. I suppose. So vou 
want to cut short her artistic- career?'' he 
asked, "just at its promising inception. 
What a pity !" 

"Artistic rot," I answered. "Think ot 
the crowd there to-morrow night, think 
of their looks, their comments guess the 
rest." 

"Comments^ T heard nothing but the 
most flattering comments, I heard her 
pronounced a queen this evening and so 
she is, though you used to be content to 
let it go at a duchess, I believe. The 
staring will be no worse than at real 
queens at their coronations. 1 saw a cor- 
onation once; the personal comments 
were n't half so flattering. A cat may 
281 




Sit down, Nick 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



look at a king; why not a man at a 
queen ? You must be jealous." 

"Oh, shut up," I said, "you know what 
I mean. I 'm not working for myself in 
this. I simply can't stand her being on 
the stage." 

"Well, why don't you marry the 
girl?" he asked. "That 's the usual 
way." 

I did not like his tone. "No man is fit 
to marry her," I returned reverently. 

"That 's what they always say," he 
mused, "and yet did you ever know any 
of 'em to let a little thing like that stand 
in the way? You '11 probably marry 
her. I '11 bet you two to one you marry 
her." Again he gave me his eager scru- 
tiny. 

I arose to go. "Then if you won't 
help me I must try it alone somehow," 
I sighed; "I don't know just how." 

"Nick," he said, detaining me, "it 

287 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



does n't seem to occur to you that, this is 
asking a lot of me. You see, I have put 
her on the stage; it 's to my interest to 
keep her there. She may make me 
famous as well as herself. Even it I 'm 
never luck}' enough to star her in a piece 
of my own, at least. I can always boast 
that. I gave her her start. 'Hulda Ruth- 
erford"? oh, ACS, I discovered her, I knew 
her when she was only a governess' and 
all that sort of thing, you know." 

"Torry, if you have the slightest real 
regard tor Miss Rutherford ' I began. 

"To-night," he went on, ignoring my 
interruption, "at the close of the rehearsal 
they offered her a permanent engagement. 
That 's why we were so late in getting 
out. Oh, you 're not the only one she 
impressed to-night. Tt 's seldom they 
take the extra people so seriously. They 
wanted her to sign at once before the 
other managers see her to-morrow night 
and snap her up, you understand?" 
288 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"And I suppose you made her do it*?" 

He smiled oddly. "No, I advised her 
to wait." 

"In order to get a more advantageous 
offer?" I asked, seeing my hopes fade. 

"Nick," he said, changing his tone 
abruptly to a frank friendliness, "in a 
way you 're right about this thing. Per- 
haps you have influenced me. She 's too 
fine for what she 's doing. Of course the 
stage is not so naughty as you and your 
sort prefer to think, and in any case she 
can take care of herself. Think of her 
derisive smile! But it will be an awful 
nuisance for her. It 's such a bother to 
be beautiful; and yet, what woman 
would not give all she has for that dis- 
quieting possession. But think of our 
Hulda as a public beauty ! It will never 
do. It will spoil the very quality we 
adore about her most I was especially 
impressed with that to-night her deli- 
cate elusiveness, her arrogant aloofness. 
289 



MY LOST nrC'HESS 

X"o, Xick. she was not made to be a 
'servant of the public.' It 's not her 
metier" 

I knew he enjoyed watching me shud- 
der, but I felt now as though he. too, 
were capable of shuddering, and I 
thought better of him than I had in 
months. 

"And yet," he said, ''there 's this 
stupid, humdrum, human habit of eating 
and sleeping. Even she can not break 
herself of that. What would you say to 
something of this sort, for earning a quiet 
living in the surroundings she 's accus- 
tomed to?" He tossed me a note from 
the table. 

It was from Mrs. LI. Harrison Wells, 
a young matron rather great in her world, 
with whose name I dimly recalled hear- 
ing Torresdale's linked in idle gossip. 
She said that she would be delighted to 
have Miss Rutherford fill the place left 
290 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



vacant by the marriage of her late secre- 
tary. "It means helping entertain her 
guests," he said. "Mrs. Wells is rather 
lazy." 

"Thank God," I said too grateful to 
be jealous. Evidently Torry had writ- 
ten to Mrs. Wells some time ago. Per- 
haps he had felt as I did all along. 
"When did this arrive"?" I asked. 

"Only this evening, at dinner." 

"You showed it to her"?" 

"On the way home that 's why I 
bluffed off the governor until I could see 
her alone. Nick, she refused Mrs. 
Wei Is' s offer." 

"Refused it! Why?" 

He shrugged his shoulders. 

We looked at each other. I searched 
his calm, impenetrable eyes. I won- 
dered what he knew and was holding 
back. 

"Torry," I said, "what does it mean? 
291 



MY LOST DUCHKSS 



Can that girl be so fascinated b}' all that 
tinsel-tawdry make-believe?" 

He laughed at my phrase. "She hates 
the tinsel-tawdry make-believe." 

"Then why. in the name of reason, 
did she refuse this offer?" 

Again he shrugged. "Nick/' he said, 
"I know just enough about women to 
know that I know nothing." 

Then he seemed anxious to get at his 
work, which he said was a love story. 



292 




XXXVI 

'ILD plans scudded through my 
mind in sleep, and wilder 
ones at each fitful awakening. 
Despise and hate me as she 
would, I could not let her do the thing she 
chose to do, since now there was a fair 
alternative. I no longer cared (or 
thought I did n't) how she regarded me; 
her future was more important to me than 
my own. She had arrived at a crucial 

* 

parting of the ways, and I made up my 
mind she should not take the way she 
blindly had selected. 

If necessary I would meet and inter- 
cept her at the door so I pictured it 
and carry her away by force, and so 
spoil her chances. My will was now op- 
posed to hers, and mine would prove the 
master so I thought. 

293 



MY LOST Dl'CIIKSS 



Indeed, when dav and clearer vision 
eanie. this wild intention hardened into 
fixed resolve, tor no milder plan .-eemed 
possible. She had not told me where -he 
lived. Torre-dale, who knew, declined 
to tell me. He said (whether truthfully 
or not) that she had made him promi.-e 
not to. At the theater they refused to 
pve me her address. None of her friends 
had even seen her. 

Meanwhile there was a day's work to 
worry through. 

As twilight approached the lover in me 
for I could not kill my love for her, 
though knowing her I saw clearly now 
that what I meant to do would kill all 
that mi^ht be left of the kind regard she 
bore me the lover led my footsteps to 
the pleasant paths in our beloved Park 
where but a day ap) my hopes had 
reached their height, and where I lost her 
when so nearly won. 

* 

294 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



Here was the reservoir where we 
walked in silence through the mist, and 
here the little bridge where the reckless 
rider and my heart galloped hard in con- 
cert. And here was the open space among 
the trees where the world stood still when 
I told her that I loved her, and every- 
thing had told me she was mine except 
the mere words, and then I lost her. And 
here 

Here I found her now. 



295 




XXXVIT 

is if the intervening hours had 
never been, and merely the 
tog had lifted, she was 
standing quite still and quite 
alone upon that very spot, with a 
thoughtful look upon her half-turned 
face. 

She did not hearmv swift approach for, 
jUSt as she had used the soundless grass 
to slip away from me, it served my pur- 
pose now to come up elo.se behind her, 
speaking her name. 

I had surprised her. But she was far 
from glad as when I found her on the 
wet Avenue the day before. She flushed 
with displeasure and she bit her lip. and 
asked me what T wanted there, as though 
it were her private park, and I a poacher. 
But I was not abashed. 
296 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"I? Oh, I was merely looking for 
you," I replied, the cooler of the two; 
"and you?" 

"I was looking for my path," she said 
hastily, explaining that she lived nearby. 
"It 's always so confusing here." 

"So I found it yesterday," said I. 
"You look confused. Let me show you 
the right path," I added. "I am not con- 
fused to-day." 

"I have found it now," she answered, 
and started off abruptly, I following 
closely. 

"This is not the right way," I said, de- 
taining her. 

"I '11 take which one I please," she de- 
clared emphatically, "and I will go 
alone." 

"You 're quite mistaken in both those 
matters," I answered. "You '11 take the 
one I say, and, as it happens, you 're not 



to go alone." 



297 



MY LOST IM CTTKSS 



"Indeed?" she cried, indignant now, 
and turned oil from the main path 
through a little copse, but she was not to 
escape me again. "Xo." I slid, overtak- 




else run into them. T 
little light left in the Park, and not far 
away passed a tew belated people bound 
for dinner. 

"Don't make yourself ridiculous," she 
sneered, "they will see you." 

"I know it, so take care." I answered. 
"Think how they would -tare if you 
caused a scene here in a public park!" 
She stood still now and looked at me, 
defiant. I looked down at her. "You 
could n't stop me if I cared to go on," 
she said more lightly, as though tem- 
porizing. 

I told her I was pleased that she did 
298 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



not care to go on, but that I could easily 
stop her. 

"Pooh!" she said, laughing now to 
show how calm she was. "How could 
you stop me?" 

"Well, for one thing, ) T OU are only a 
girl. I could easily hold you in my arms, 
you know. I 'm so much stronger." 

"Pooh!" she said again. "You! You 
would n't dare!" and turned to go the 
other way. I seized her sharply by the 
wrist. She gasped. "Don't be absurd," 
she breathed. 

"Then don't go," I said, but did not 
release her hand. The people had passed 
on, their minds on dinner. We had that 
part of the Park to ourselves. 

"What are you going to do with me?" 
she asked timidly. It was mock timidity, 
as if she still were master of us two, but 
she was not, for it was no longer as a 
suppliant lover that I stood before her 
299 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



now. Not my interests but hers were in 
my mind this made all the difference. 
I felt a confidence and dominance I had 
never known before in the presence ot 
this woman. Also. 1 was quite aware 
that her hand was in my ^rasp anil that 
it was ripd. Thus we two stood con- 
fronting each other in the fading li<Jit. 
each resolute, determined. She shot such 
glorious looks ot scorn at me. They 
glanced off. harmless and I searched her 
shadowy eyes until they turned away 
from mine. 

"Do you wish to make me late?" she 
asked with ^rave dignity. 

"Yes." 

There was a little pause. 

"Are you trying to humiliate me?" 

"No. To save you from worse humili- 
ation." 

Her lip curled. Then, in an anxious 
tone: "It 's really time for me to ^o," she 
300 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



said. "I have an obligation to meet. I 
have a sense of honor, even if you have 
not." 

"Your part is unimportant. It can be 
cut. No one will miss it." 

"Indeed!' she cried, with growing 
wrath. 

"However, it does n't matter you 're 
not going to that place again." 

She laughed as if indulgent. "Oh, 
yes, I am," she said confidently. 

"Oh, no, you 're not." 

"I will!" 

"You can't !" 

Again we looked at each other, my 
grasp tightening a little on her wrist. 
"So that is all settled," I said. "Now, 
I have something else to say to you 

"I do not wish to hear!" she flung 
back instantly. 

"If you think that I mean to tell you 
that I care for you, you 're much mis- 
301 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



taken. T 've done that once. Do you 
suppose I ni the sort to repeat it"? No. 
Before we part \ve are to understand each 
other clearly, for once, for all even 
if it proves to be the last time \ve ever 
meet." 

"I '11 have that to be thankful for. a^ 
least." she interjected halt aloud. 

"'Last night I begged you to ex- 
plain" 

"I '11 never explain!" she cried ex- 
citedly. 

"I know it that 's why I 'm going to 
do it." 

"] don't care to hear your explana- 
tion." 

"I know that too, but you 've got to. 
I know all about you now." 

"You know nothing about me!' 

"Everything! T can read you like a 
book. T know why you acted as 3-011 
did when you discovered that T cared 
302 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



for you. I know why you avoided me. 
I know why you turned to Torry for 
help. I know why you went on the 
stage. I know why you refused to leave 
it." 

"You do not!" she cried, almost inar- 
ticulate with rage. 

"But I do ! The explanation is so 
simple that it 's strange I did not guess 
it from the start. I know why you are 
so angry with me now." She was strug- 
gling to be gone and I grasped her by the 
other hand and turned her toward me. 
"It 's because you love me ! That 's why 
you are here and caught!" 

And oh, now, the look upon her face ! 
Never before was such a sight for the 
eyes of man. Proud, scornful, superb 
but trapped, dismayed, disarmed. I saw 
her summon all her virgin strength, and, 
like an angry Artemis discovered, she 
shot the bolt that should destroy me: 

303 



MY LOST Dl'CHKSS 



"I Life you!'' she hurled, and her 
(.vondrous face in glorious wrath was but 
a little distance from my o\vn. Oh. what 
terrific scorn was in her tones. But I was 
not terrified. I liked it. 

"Xo,' 1 I cried, no lorvjer pretending to 
be calm, "you love me!' 

"'Oh, how I Itafc you!" 

"It 's love. You love me almo.-t as 
much as I do you! Ever}- iia-h ot your 
burning, hating eyes tells me that 
you love me every quiver ot your 
lovely mouth ever}' tremor ot your 
slender bod}'. Xo. Hulda, it 's no 
list 1 struggling I shall never let you go. 
You love me! That 's why you tor- 
mented me at lied Hill that 's why you 
ran away at last thinking you had been 
unfair to some one else. That 's why }ou 
were so furious at. my disapproval of the 
stage that 's why you took this work 
you hated to punish yourself and hide 

304 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

from me, thinking I would not care 
to follow there believing it would 
cure me yet hoping all the time it 
would n't and fearing all the time it 
might. Ah, Hulda! that 's why you 
came looking for me yesterday because 
you could n't help it, Hulda you 
could n't keep away, you lovely, lovely 
thing! Why, you love me so that you 
would even give me up! so I might 
have what you can't bring so romanti- 
cally you love me that 's why you came 
here now to view once more the scene 
of sacrifice here where love has brought 
us both to find each other when we 
foreswore love. Oh, Hulda, Hulda, 
you 're not a worldly duchess you 're a 
glorious girl in love with me! Say it, 
Hulda, for you 're caught, and I shall 
never, never let you go." My arms 
found her and held her fast. 

Still striving to be free of me, but 

305 



MY LOST DUCHESS 

glorying in her un-ucee . "Oh." she 
sobbed, "'can't you see how miserable 
you 're making meV" 

'"X\>." I cried, "only how happy you 
are that 's why you cry. Look at me 
and deny it. it you can deny it, it you 
dare!" 

Bravely she raised her dewy eyes to 
ga'/.e me down. She looked, she did not 
dare! Her eyes fluttered and fell. Her 
head drooped like a drenched rose. 

For a moment her cool hand- held my 
eager face in check, her eyes sounding 
my soul. then. "Oh. Xick. Xick!" she 
cried, sheer gladness breaking through 
her voice, as, surrendering to the happi- 
ness that was her- and mine, she gave 
herself to me at last. 



AT the moment of her sweet surrender, 

there in the gathering dusk, I only knew 

306 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



the joy of what I had won, not the full 
value of it. This came a little later when 
thought returned, and we looked at each 
other with new eyes, wondering how such 
things could be granted mere mortals. 

But now I know. And what am I that 
she should love me so ! How can I hope 
to earn what I have won. I can only 
gaze and wonder and be glad. 



WE had left the blessed Park when, 
where, or how, I do not know -and pres- 
ently we found ourselves floating down 
the also blessed Avenue. 

"Look at the time!" she said. "You 
have made me miss my dinner, Nick." 

"You must have your dinner," I said, 
and thought rapidly. "We must be mar- 
ried at once." 

She gasped a little, but smiled bravely. 
"Why at once?" she asked quite casually. 

307 



MY LOST DITIIKSS 



"Think lio\\' much time we have 
wasted apart already ; and then. we can 
have dinner together." 

She thought this over a while. Sud- 
den! A' >he eried. "Oh. here conies Tony 
to take me to the theater there, in the 
hansom, under the light. Dear old 
Torry." 

"Why '"dear"?" 

"So was the beggar." 

"For the same reason"?" 

"Only, Torry never begged. ^ on did 
it for him, Xiek oh. so awkwardly! So 
awkwardly that sometime.- you seemed 
very attractive." 

''Let 's turn the corner/' I -aid. not 
\\ anting to see Torresdale just now. 

"Xo, he sees us. Lie sees everything. 
He admires you so. X"ick. lie 's a good 
friend of yours you don't know how 
good a friend." 

"He has peculiar ways of showing it." 

308 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



"He does n't show it, he hides it. He 
thinks he 's a cynic he 's a dear." 

Torry, drawing up at the curb, was 
now saluting. "Why, Xick! Are \oii. 
raking her to the theater? I 'm shocked !' : 

"He 's thinking of taking me to din- 
ner!" laughed Hulda, perfectly poised. 
"Is n't he daring?" 

"Why, we 're just going to get mar- 
ried," I remarked in a daxe. 

"Married?" repeated Torresdale, and 
burst out laughing. 

"But he would n't take me to dinner 
otherwise," said Hulda, now crimson. 

"Where does one get married?" I in- 
quired, trying hard to look practical. 

Torry laughed again. "One? I 
never tried it, but I know it takes two- 
two and a best man and a carriage. 
Good! I can be your best man after all, 
Nick! What did I tell you? And here! 
this cab will do for the carriage." He 

309 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



jumped out beside u-. "Get in. get in. 
both of you. I '11 go and telephone to 
Harrison ah, so that 's why you dined 
with him last evening. Nick, and I '11 
telephone to Amy. H ul da and to the 
theater, too I "11 telephone to every- 
body then I "11 jump on a ear and beat 
you down there. Oh, ! 'm always such a 
b;i!l\- best man. Xiek, did n't I tell you 
I "d make a better best man than a bride- 
groom"? (ret in, T tell you. I ? m run- 
ning this part of it get in!" 

There was no resisting him. I helped 
Hulda m and turned to him, "Torry, 
you you- -are all right.'' I said, want- 
ing to say more, not knowing how. 

"Oh, I Ye had my fun out of it. I 
like to see the wheels go round. I told 
you it would come out all right in the 
end. Rut if ! had n't shuffled the cards 
well, let it go at that. Jump in beside 
her. man. The carriage waits also the 
bride." 

310 



MY LOST DUCHESS 



I clasped his hand and then sprang in. 

"By the by," he said, leaning toward 
us at the open doors of the cab, "what 
are your prospects in lite, you two had 
you thought of that?" He glanced 
across Fifth Avenue where stand the 
houses of the might}' rich. 

"Certainly," I answered confidently, 
"T have a thousand in the bank. That 's 
enough." 

"Oh, beautiful !" he shouted, laugh- 
ing, "a thousand dollars! Think of it! 
In this day and generation ! And in this 
city of all cities on this street! Well, 
God bless you." 

And then as he slammed the door we 
heard him quote : 

"God gave them youth, 
God gave them love, 
And even God can give no more." 

FINIS 



